


McSorley Memories

by foreverHenry919



Category: Forever (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Gen, Immortality, Implied Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:21:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 31,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25514203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreverHenry919/pseuds/foreverHenry919
Summary: This takes place two or three months after Jo showed up with Henry's pocket watch and the black-and-white photo. Henry, Jo, Lucas, and Hanson leave McSorley's one night and find themselves somehow transported back in time to a New York City of the 1890's. It will take them a while to get back to their own time but in the meantime, they learn that they have to rely on Henry's knowledge of that time in order to survive. Naturally, they have no idea that his knowledge comes not from books but from firsthand experience of having lived in that time and place. Will he be able to keep his secret from them as they search for a way back to their own time?
Relationships: Henry Morgan & Lucas Wahl, Jo Martinez & Henry Morgan, Mike Hanson & Henry Morgan
Comments: 75
Kudos: 60





	1. McSorley Memories Ch 1 Through the Doors

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own "Forever" TV show 2014-2015 or any of its characters. But if I did, I'd use some of these other great fanfics for the next five seasons' scripts

The bartender, Pepin, who’d been at McSorley’s for more than 30 years by his count, basked in the limelight once again as he recounted how in 1854 this area of the Bowery was “bar after bar after bar” and “the worst degenerate part of the city, synonymous with bums, vagrants, and out-of-work actors.” 

Henry already knew about – had known --- the Irish Immigrant, John McSorley, who’d chosen to build his tavern there but he remained silent with an attentive, interested smile on his face as Pepin continued his impromptu history lesson of how McSorley had been born in 1827 in County Tyrone, Ireland. How he had emigrated to the U.S. like thousands of his countrymen did in 1851. And how a few years later, he had opened up a tavern called The Old House at Home. His son, William, had taken over when John was in his 60’s and had worked there for 65 years. 

“They hang a picture and it stays there for 100 years or longer,” Pepin told his captive crowd of patrons hugging the bar and nursing their drinks of light or dark ale. He then pointed to the many playbills hanging on the wall instead of TV’s because “… the bar was in the theater district. The theater district wasn’t on 42nd Street; it was here,” he said while pointing his finger down at the bar top. To prove his point, he ticked off the names of famous people from bygone eras like Mae West, who had performed there and the names of famous patrons who’d come to enjoy the performances along with the drinks and atmosphere. 

The aged artwork, newspaper articles covering the walls, sawdust floors, and the Irish waiters and bartenders gave McSorley's an atmosphere reminiscent of Olde New York, which Henry remembered all too well. No piece of memorabilia had been removed from the walls since 1910, and the many items of "historical" paraphernalia in the bar, such as Houdini’s handcuffs connected to the bar rail, brought back long-ago fond memories for the Immortal ME. While Pepin explained about the wishbones hanging above the bar --- supposedly hung there by boys going off to World War I --- Henry recalled that they were to be removed when they’d returned. He remembered removing his own that he’d hung there and eyed wistfully the wishbones that were still left in homage to those who never returned. 

Pepin’s voice gradually grew louder, cutting into his thoughts. “One of McSorley's mottos is ‘Be Good or Be Gone’ and the second is ‘We were here before you were born’.” 

Henry stifled a laugh because, of course, he had been there before anyone else in the bar had been born; even its founder. He also knew that what Pepin didn’t say was that prior to 1970, when women were not allowed, the second motto had been "Good Ale, Raw Onions and No Ladies". In 1923, his friend and poet, E. E. Cummings, had penned a poem about sitting in McSorley's. In it, he described the establishment as having "the ale which never lets you grow old" and the bar itself as being "snug and evil". Wouldn’t it be a good thing, Henry had thought then as he did now, that if consuming the brew was indeed the key to his not growing old. As if never having entered the bar could cure him of his inability to age. Something which he felt certain was snug and evil. 

Henry paid for his not-so-usual drink of dark ale and left his seat at the bar. He decided that a trip to the men’s room was in order before leaving, though. He paused a bit and looked curiously over his shoulder at Hanson and Lucas standing on the street just outside the bar’s entrance. They appeared to be in deep discussion about something. It briefly crossed his mind that they should have been able to hail a cab by now, having said their goodbye’s nearly ten minutes ago. Probably arguing again about which American football team would make it to the championship, he silently concluded. As he turned and headed for the men’s room, he saw Jo exiting the ladies’ room. They met halfway in the inner portion of the bar and smiled at each other. 

“Calling it a night, Henry?” she asked. 

“Yes,” he replied. 

“Want to … share a cab?” she somewhat shyly asked. “Split the cost,” she bargained. 

There was no need for the lovely detective to bargain her way into spending more time with him; something which he always welcomed. ”Good idea," he told her. "I'll just be a moment."

She nodded and bit her lower lip but without her usual frown. She probably looked forward to being alone with him in the cab in order to question him again about the scar on his chest. It was his turn to frown. What would he tell her? How would he finish that story? 

He had joined them only a few times in McSorley’s. He remembered how much he’d appreciated them rescuing him from the clutches of his captor, Cliff Wadlow, who’d been jealous of his relationship with Molly Dawes. He’d been so appreciative that he’d begun to tell Jo about his scar. The one that had been exposed to her and the rest of his rescuers. The one that had appeared after his first death from a gunshot wound and had stubbornly remained throughout the many subsequent decades of his long life. The one that he would give almost anything to be rid of; even if it meant ending his immortality. 

He washed his hands and dried them with a couple of paper towels and began to leave the restroom but not before taking in his perpetually youthful reflection in the mirror. Was he really prepared to tell her why this reflection would never change and had not changed for over 200 years? He let out a sigh and realized that even though she’d waited patiently for more than six months since that November night, he still wasn’t ready to tell her the truth. 

Once he entered the bar’s seating area again, he saw Jo engaged in conversation with an oddly-dressed older man. The conversation appeared to be more one-sided, though, with Jo nodding politely with her eyebrows raised. When she saw Henry, she welcomed the opportunity to leave the man, telling him that her “ride” was here. As they walked away toward the door, the man bid them a cryptic farewell. 

“Have fun out there, you two. Once in a lifetime.” The smiling man spoke with an Irish brogue and wore clothing similar to what Henry wore at times: a frock coat --- a long jacket that went to the knee in front and back; a waistcoat that held his pocket-watch; a white ascot knotted in the same manner as Henry’s scarves sometimes were. He topped off his outfit with a black derby hat and black, leather gloves, which he’d removed in order to grip the handle of his glass stein of dark ale more easily. 

“Odd,” Jo observed of the man and his manner of dress. “Almost dressed like you but … his outdated clothing looks newly-made.” 

Yes, Henry thought to himself. It was as if he had purchased his outfit recently but the style and fabric appeared to be outdated more than a century. Both he and Jo independently concluded that there must be a film crew nearby or maybe the man had just left a masquerade ball. They both shirked off thoughts of the man as they drew closer to the bar’s open entry door. They briefly paused and looked quizzically at each other when they realized that they couldn’t hear a word of their two colleagues’ conversation even though they were right outside the door. 

“Hey, guys!” Jo called to them. “Why the pantomime?” They didn’t respond or even act as though they’d heard her. Jo shook her head and looked at Henry. “C’mon, let’s go see what these jokers are up to.” 

She stepped out of the bar with Henry close behind her. At that point, Hanson’s and Lucas’ voices rang loud and clear as if she and Henry had suddenly unplugged their ears. It wasn’t only that that unsettled them it was the frantic tone of their voices. They actually sounded scared. But before either of them could question the two men further, they were stopped dead in their tracks by their next actions. 

“No!” Lucas cried out as he seemingly ignored Henry and Jo and looked over their shoulders at the bar behind them. He squeezed his eyes closed and bent over, gripping his knees with his hands. He straightened back up with a pained look on his face. “It can’t be,” he whispered. He finally acknowledged Henry’s and Jo’s presence. “I was hoping that when you guys came out, we could get back in there.” 

The confused couple took in Hanson’s forlorn appearance and Henry asked Lucas what he was talking about. “Get back in where?” 

“There! McSorley’s!” Lucas loudly replied, pointing over Henry’s shoulder. 

Henry and Jo, frowning and still confused, looked behind them at the bar. But it wasn’t the bar. At least, not the bar they knew of in the present. Henry recognized it from an earlier time. He looked next door and instead of finding a print shop, saw yet another Irish bar. Two doors down, another. He looked across the street and saw a handful of others. But the street itself was unpaved. And the modern street lights were no longer in sight. Thankfully, they were electric but Henry had not seen any like them since the first ones that had been installed in --- the 1880’s! 

They all startled at the sight and sound of a gleaming black carriage drawn by two white horses as it approached from their left and passed in front of them. Even more startling was when they realized that their modern clothing had been miraculously replaced with a manner of dress popular in the late 1800’s. 

“Henry, what the hell ---?” Jo whispered as she held both arms out, as did they all, and let her eyes roam over this unexpected wardrobe change. 

The words of the oddly-dressed man inside McSorley’s came back to Henry. He seriously doubted that either of them was going to enjoy themselves but it was certainly going to be a once-in-a-lifetime experience. 

vvvvvvvv 

Notes: 

McSorley's [located at 15 E 7th Street, NY] is a Cooper Union landmark that first opened sometime around the Civil War. It is one of the oldest continuously operating bars in the city. McSorley's serves two kinds of beer, McSorley's Lager and McSorley's Cream Stock Ale, and they are served two mugs at a time. The menu is simple, with appetizers such as hearty cheese plates. [ https://www.yelp.com/biz/mcsorleys-old-ale-house-new-york ](https://www.yelp.com/biz/mcsorleys-old-ale-house-new-york)

Other information on McSorley’s found on Bucket List Bars youtube video [ https://youtu.be/t6ThJe3Foyc ](https://youtu.be/t6ThJe3Foyc)

and 

youtube video [ https://youtu.be/4UJTpkqIQTc ](https://youtu.be/4UJTpkqIQTc)] 

Slight reference to Forever TV show 2014-2015 episode The Ecstacy of Agony S01/E08. 

Description of men’s fashions in the 1890’s found at [ https://oureverydaylife.com/mens-fashion-in-the-1890s-12485051.html ](https://oureverydaylife.com/mens-fashion-in-the-1890s-12485051.html)

Information on first electric streets lights in New York City found at [ https://images.search.yahoo.com ](https://images.search.yahoo.com/search/images;_ylt=Awr9F6.gjhxfKGsA1VSJzbkF;_ylu=X3oDMTBsZ29xY3ZzBHNlYwNzZWFyY2gEc2xrA2J1dHRvbg--;_ylc=X1MDOTYwNjI4NTcEX3IDMgRhY3RuA2NsawRjc3JjcHZpZANmRks3bnpFd0xqSXgzNlRnWHh4UnRnSTBNall3TUFBQUFBQl9UOGtmBGZyA3lzZXRfY2hyX3N5Y19ocARmcjIDc2EtZ3AEZ3ByaWQDcmZKZEVITlRTWTIxNkFiQVAwYjBjQQRuX3N1Z2cDMARvcmlnaW4DaW1hZ2VzLnNlYXJjaC55YWhvby5jb20EcG9zAzAEcHFzdHIDBHBxc3RybAMEcXN0cmwDNTgEcXVlcnkDbmV3JTIweW9yayUyMGNpdHklMjBlbGVjdHJpYyUyMHN0cmVldCUyMGxpZ2h0cyUyMGluJTIwMTg4MAR0X3N0bXADMTU5NTcwNzA3Mg--?p=new+york+city+electric+street+lights+in+1880&fr=yset_chr_syc_hp&fr2=sb-top-images.search&ei=UTF-8&n=60&x=wrt#id=12&iurl=https%3A%2F%2Fupload.wikimedia.org%2Fwikipedia%2Fcommons%2F6%2F66%2FThe_last_of_the_Horse_Drawn_Carriages.JPG&action=click)


	2. McSorley Memories Ch 2 Horse!

Jo caught her reflection in the window of McSorley’s bar and she gasped in horror. “What the hell is this on top of my head?!” she growled. The dark blue dress with a white lace covering the front from the neckline to the waistline wasn’t bad looking; just too long and too frilly for her tastes. But this weird-looking thing on top of her head! 

Henry stepped closer to her and peered at the reflection then at the small brimmed straw hat on her head. “A hat, Detective,” he responded with a lopsided grin. “Very becoming. The elaborate blue bow on the side is a nice touch.” 

Jo scowled and snatched it off. “I don’t wear hats!” She looked around at their strange surroundings. “Whoever or whatever is making us be here – against our will (she shouted into the growing darkness) --- can’t make me wear this dumb thing!” 

Henry dipped his head slightly to the side and told her, “Your choice, of course. But know that women who wore no head covering in public were deemed ladies of the night. Even during the day, they were viewed as harlots brazenly advertising for male, ah, customers.” He gave a sideways glance at her with his hands clasped behind his back and a raised eyebrow. “And they were either promptly arrested or run out of town.” 

Hanson stepped closer to her and leaned forward a bit. “Maybe plunk it back on, Jo. Keep it on until we can find a way out of this place. No need to attract unwanted attention,” he advised her in a lowered voice, concerned. 

“Yeah,” Lucas nervously added. “What he said,” indicating Hanson. 

“And if I choose not to?” she defiantly asked them. 

“You may want to try to explain your lack of head covering to this gentleman,” Henry said, dipping his head in the direction of an approaching uniformed policeman. “It would be wise for us to do our best to stay together in order to be able to extricate ourselves from this place together,” he pointed out to her. She gave a sigh of defeat and perched the hat back on her head. 

“Satisfied?” she rasped. 

“Let’s hope that he is,” Henry replied. 

“Evening, folks,” Officer O’Halloran greeted them as he tipped his bell-shaped hat at them. The portly, mustachioed man fingered his Billy club on the side of his belt as he looked each of them over. “Rather late to be out.” 

“We were, ah, just about to order a cab,” Henry told him with his most charming smile. 

O’Halloran frowned slightly at the sound of Henry’s accent. “From out of town, are ye?” 

His companions swallowed and fought to remain calm, content to allow Henry to speak for them. “Oh, you caught my accent,” he replied, choosing not to directly reply to his question. O’Halloran pointed to an approaching Hansom cab. 

“Yes, here’s one now,” Henry said. He turned to the approaching cab and yelled out, “Horse!” The cab pulled up, the driver secured the reins, and jumped down to assist them inside. He stiffly greeted them, his formal black attire and top hat making him appear taller than what he was, as he opened the side door and held it open. Henry thanked him and allowed Jo and the others to board first. He gave the driver an address and boarded the cab. The driver closed the door and locked it then jumped back into the driver’s seat. 

They rode in silence for a few moments before Jo, seated next to him on his left, asked, “Where are we going, Henry?” The annoyance in her tone helped to mask her uncertainty. 

“Yeah, Doc,” Hanson chimed in, his eyebrows pinched together. “Where the hell we goin’ in this time? Because I noticed the date on the bar’s menu board in the window: January 18, 1896!” he virtually hissed. “What the hell is that about?” 

“1896,” Lucas and Jo slowly repeated, their eyes widened in alarm. 

Their alarm effectively weakened his confidence based on his familiarity with the time period and many of the neighborhoods as they had been before either of his three companions were even thought of. “It’s a, ah, place that I read about once, a boarding house where mostly professional people resided. It should be a safe place for us to ---” 

“---Hide?” Jo asked. “Because that’s what we’ll be doing until we figure out how to get back to …" She paused when Lucas and Hanson frowned and pointed upward to the driver. “Back to our home,” she added. 

“We do need to seek refuge for a period of time,” Henry replied. “The hour is late and I’m sure that each of us will be better able to puzzle things out after a good night’s rest.” What he didn’t share with them was that the boarding house was where he had resided for several years in the 1890’s when he’d devoted much of his time tending to the needs of poor, tenement slum dwellers. On this date in 1896, he would be out of town attending a lecture and demonstration in Philadelphia by Wilhelm Conrad Röntgen regarding his recent discovery of the medical use of X-rays in medical imaging. 

During the ride, Lucas noted that at least the seats were comfortable. “Not exactly what we’re used to but … not a bad ride.” 

The carriage hit a pothole which caused it to pitch suddenly to their right and for Jo to find herself lurched into Henry’s arms, their faces inches apart. Her wide-eyed gaze of surprise connected with his of surprise but unmistakable delight. She quickly pushed herself away from him, smoothing her skirt back into place while repositioning her hat. The hat she hated! And this long dress with all these stupid petticoats or whatever was under there. She became aware of Hanson and Lucas eyeing her and Henry with expressions that meant they were doing their best to hide their laughter --- and interest. For she had found out on Valentine’s Day about the betting pool regarding their eventual/hoped-for/expected start of a relationship. Well, it wasn’t going to be tonight and definitely not right in front of them. She caught herself and glanced at Henry then out of the window. Would it be … could it be … at some point in the future? That is, if he ---. She caught Lucas staring at her expectantly and glared at him. 

“Why don’t you take a picture,” she asked sarcastically. “It’ll last longer.” 

“Uh, I … don’t think cameras were invented yet,” he stammered his reply. 

“Actually, they were,” Hanson stated matter-of-factly. “Matthew Brady. Civil War,” he added, spreading his hands and nodding. Jo folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. He promptly clamped his mouth shut. 

The cab came to a stop and the driver jumped out and opened the door for them. “We’re here!” Henry gladly announced. Thank God, he thought to himself. But were they now out of the frying pan and into the fire? 

vvvv 

“Driver looked pissed,” Lucas noted as they entered the unexpectedly spacious and neatly-furnished room. 

“I had no currency from this time to pay him let alone tip him,” Henry explained. “He’ll come around tomorrow. I’ll have his money then.” 

“Just how do you expect to pay him, Henry?” Jo asked. 

He couldn’t tell her about his emergency stash in one of the secret compartments in the rolltop desk. He’d have to retrieve it after they’d fallen asleep. “I’ll … work something out with him. Not to worry,” he assured her with a wide grin. 

“Say, how did you know that the key to this room was in that jar on the table in the entry hall?” Hanson asked. “And how did you know which key was for this room?” 

“Ah, the, ah, keys, I have read, were, ah, left in the jars in residential hotels like this,” he managed to reply. “Only the keys to vacant rooms.” 

“Sort of take your pick, huh?” Lucas asked. 

“Just … walk into a place like this unannounced and take a room?” Hanson asked, skeptical. “I don’t know about you, Doc, but I don’t wanna wind up in any jail in this time. They were horrific.” 

“I can assure you that that won’t happen,” he replied. “You probably weren’t aware that I entered my name in the registry book.” They nodded. “Well, that’s how things were done back then. People were simply more trusting of their fellow human beings.” Henry released a sigh when it appeared that they’d all bought his lie. Truth is, they were spare keys in case a tenant became locked out of their room. If either of them took the time to examine the register more closely, they would have found that he’d checked back in and not newly registered. After months of having urged them to read more books about history and such, he gave thanks that it was apparent they had ignored his advice. 

They then discussed sleeping arrangements, settling on Jo taking the small cot in the adjoining, closet-sized room (where Henry had allowed patients to rest). It would also allow her some much-needed privacy. She bid them goodnight and closed the door. They drew straws to see which of them would take the two twin beds and which one would sleep on the sofa. Hanson argued that since Henry had gotten them safely there, that he should take one of the beds. Henry insisted that all of them have an equal chance. The result was Hanson and Lucas would take the beds and Henry would take the sofa. Just as they were bedding down, a soft knock came from the other side of the door to Jo’s closet room. Hanson called to her that it was okay for her to open the door, that they were “decent”. She opened the door and gave Henry a world-weary look. 

“Where is the bathroom?” she asked. She put up a hand and added, “Don’t tell me there’s an outhouse!” 

Vvvvvvvv 

Notes: 

Wilhelm Conrad Röntgen discovered the medical use of X-rays in 1895. [ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Timeline_of_medicine_and_medical_technology ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Timeline_of_medicine_and_medical_technology)

I’m researching a lot about this or that to make the story as realistic as possible but some of it I’m just making up like the part about the keys in the jar or the fate of women who wore no head coverings in public. It’s all fantasy anyway. Who knows? Maybe that’s the way they did do things back then.


	3. McSorley Memories Ch 3 Henry 1896

Hanson and Lucas cast expectant looks at Henry for they had had the same question on their minds about a restroom if any. Henry rose up off of the sofa and walked over to Jo to explain to her about the shared restroom at the end of the hall. At her reaction of dismay, Lucas said that at least it wasn’t outside. The building, he clarified when she snapped her head in his direction. Henry pretended to be unsure of where the bar of soap and towels were kept. He snapped his fingers and successfully retrieved a bar of soap wrapped in a thick, terrycloth towel near the washbasin on the dresser and handed them to her. She thanked him and hesitated for a moment. He took her hesitancy to mean that she was uncomfortable venturing out alone. 

“Would you like for me to show you where it is?” he asked her. 

“No, um,” she turned to him, frowning and waved a hand in front of her. “Does it have … everything I’ll need?” 

Ah. Toilet paper. A flushing toilet. Running water. A tub or shower. “Yes. Everything,” he promised. He opened the door for her and she stepped into the hallway. “That way,” he said, pointing to his right. “I’m sure you’ll be pleasantly surprised at how accommodating it is.” 

She nodded uncertainly and proceeded down the hall. He closed the door all the while biting back his laughter. If he didn’t want to spend time healing from scratch marks or a stinging slap to the cheek, he knew that his laughter had to be contained even in the presence of his two colleagues. He sat back down on the sofa but remained awake so as not to miss her knock or be available should she need him. Once she returned, the three men took turns in the “privy” as well; and after all toileting concerns were taken care of, the four of them finally settled down for the night. 

vvvv 

The sofa had been comfortable but felt even more comfortable as Henry slowly became more awake. The smell of a delicious breakfast reached his nostrils and he inhaled deeply, his mouth beginning to water. He wondered who was cooking the bacon, coffee, and fried potatoes. Whoever it was, he told himself, it meant that it was now morning and time to get up and face another day in 1896. He opened his eyes and threw the covers back. The … covers to his own bed. He jumped up and looked incredulously around his own bedroom above the antique shop. The shop? He heard Abe humming in the kitchen and he cursed violently to himself. For if he was back in the present, where were the others? He rushed out of his room and into the kitchen to see Abe happily piling breakfast onto his plate. 

“Abe!” he cried out. 

“Oh, hey, Pops,” Abe replied. He sat down and picked up his napkin and placed it on his lap. “What time did you get in? I waited up for you but finally dozed off a little after midnight.” He motioned for his father to sit down and have some breakfast. 

“No, Abe,” he worriedly replied while wrapping his robe around him and tying the belt. He then sat down at the table. “I … I have to figure out why I’m here.” 

Abe raised his eyebrows while buttering his toast and said, “Dad, we’ve been over all that already. Your immortality is a gift, not a curse. Now, whether you believe that or not, it’s still true.” 

“No, Abe, I … it’s not that.” He met his son’s concerned gaze and proceeded to tell him what had happened the night before. “And now I wake up this morning and I’m back here, back home, in the present.” His troubled eyes slid from side to side as he tried to make sense of everything. 

“Dad … are you sure you didn’t just … hang one on last night and maybe passed out at Jo’s after ---?” Abe cautiously asked him. 

“Get your mind out of the gutter, young man!” Henry angrily demanded. Abe knew that look and tone of voice all too well. 

“Okay, okay, sorry,” he said. “Well … you’re here now so that means that maybe they’re here, too,” Abe cheerfully proposed. 

Henry’s spirits buoyed at that. “Yes. Yes.” He rose from his seat and walked over to the landline phone. “I’ll just call her and see what’s about.” 

It was no use, though. Not only did he reach voicemail on Jo’s cell and work phones, he reached voicemail on Hanson’s and Lucas’, as well. His last resort was to call the Lieutenant to find out if she knew where Jo and Hanson were, at least. When he hesitated, rubbing the sweat from his palms onto his robe, Abe offered to call the Lieutenant. 

“No, Abe, that’s … that won’t be necessary,” he replied. “I’ve no other choice but to just … report for work as usual and hope for the best.” His appetite greatly suppressed and his hopes greatly dashed, he retreated to his bedroom to wash up and get dressed for work. 

“Don’t worry, Pops,” Abe called after him. “I’m sure they’ll turn up the same as you did.” But his words did little to assure even himself. Dang, this would be so much easier if Dad and Jo had both gotten drunk and finally entangled themselves! He would only have to worry if he’d used protection or not! 

vvvv 

The OCME, although filled with the usual amount of other ME’s and assistants, felt ominously empty when Henry walked in and saw Lucas’ unoccupied workstation. The items on it appeared to remain undisturbed since the night before. The heaviness he felt in the pit of his stomach was only made worse when his desk phone rang and he answered it to hear Lt. Reece’s concerned voice on the other end. 

“Dr. Morgan,” she began. “Are either Det. Martinez or Det. Hanson down there in the morgue with you?” 

“Ah, no, they’re not,” he replied, struggling to keep his voice calm. She mumbled something about maybe they’d caught a case and were already out in the field. “That’s quite possible,” he replied again. Or maybe they were caught in one of those space-time continuums as Lucas was always eager to expound on. He hung up from the Lieutenant and wondered what his three colleagues were doing in 1896 without him to guide them through the old New York City landscape. 

vvvv 

Back in 1896 … 

Hanson and Lucas awoke with a start when they saw that Henry was gone. They knocked on the door of the small closet room that Jo occupied and woke her up. She opened the door, still fully clothed from the night before, and blinked her eyes against the sunlight streaming in through the windows at the other end of the room. They looked anxiously over her shoulder and deflated when they saw that she was alone. 

“What is it?” she asked as she stepped into the room and looked around. “Where’s Henry?” 

“We were kinda hopin’ that you could tell us,” Hanson replied, slightly embarrassed. He shrugged as a silent apology when she gave him a ‘really’ look. 

“M-maybe he went down the hall to the little boy’s room,” Lucas speculated. He and Hanson exchanged a knowing look and wordlessly decided to check it out together. When they returned after only a few minutes without their ME and looking downcast, Jo became as worried as they were. 

“Well … maybe he, um, went outside to pay the, the carriage driver from last night,” she offered as another reason for his absence. 

They all startled at a knock on the door that became immediately more insistent. Hanson opened the door to find not Henry but the cab driver himself. 

“Good morning, Sir,” the driver said, standing at attention with his nose in the air with an outstretched palm. “Last night I drove your party here but the gentleman what hailed my cab promised to pay me this morning.” 

The two out-of-time men looked at each other then back at the driver. “He, he ain’t here right now,” Hanson began to tell him. 

Jo shoved him aside and pushed her way to the front. “How much?” she asked him. The driver told her and she spread some currency she held in her hand and counted out the amount into his palm. The driver snootily reminded her that it was customary to provide a tip; especially since he’d had to make a special trip to even obtain the initial fare. Her brow went up indicating annoyance but she asked again, “How much?” 

The driver opened his mouth to speak then frowned and looked up at the number on the door. “This is where the doctor lives,” he stated as if suddenly aware of something. He returned the money to her and asked her to apologize to the doctor for not having immediately recognized him. “If I’d been on task as I should have, I never would have charged him in the first place.” He turned to leave but Jo stopped him. 

“You … know the doctor?” she asked uncertainly. 

“Everyone around here knows Dr. Morgan,” he replied with a grin. 

“Doctor … Henry Morgan?” she asked. 

“Well, of course,” he replied. “A fine man. Hardly accepts any payment.” He dipped his head to the returned fare in her hands. “Only too happy not to charge him for the ride.” With that, he turned and left. 

Jo slowly closed the door and looked at the money she clutched and then at Hanson and Lucas. “He knows Henry,” she said just above a whisper. “How is that possible?” 

“Gotta be an ancestor of his,” Hanson suggested with a shrug. “Only thing that makes sense.” 

“Yeah,” Lucas said. “I mean Henry’s weird and strange but he’s weird and strange in our time.” 

“Hey, where did you get that money from, anyway?” Hanson asked as he watched her walk over to the rolltop desk. 

“I’ve watched enough Antiques Roadshow and movies based on Jane Austen books,” she replied, “to know that there were hidden compartments in these old desks.” She started to replace the money then thought better of it. She turned around to face her two companions and suggested that they use the money to buy breakfast downstairs. “There’s no telling where Henry went to and I don’t know about you two but I’m starved.” 

Sounded like a plan to all of them so they took turns in the restroom down the hall and began to get dressed to go satisfy their hunger. They still may not have known where their mysterious ME had disappeared to but the 1896 version of him was on his way back from the lecture two days early. 

vvvv 

People sure did eat well in 1896 New York! Lucas was like a kid in a candy store as he looked over the culinary delights set before him. Scrambled eggs, toast and jam, biscuits and peach marmalade, bacon, ground sausage patties, fresh fruit, milk, juice, and something called Peach Brandy. The best, though, the best was the platter of thick, juicy steaks in the middle of the round table he and Jo and Hanson were sitting at. And the fact that it was included in the rental for the room --- even though they had not paid for anything --- made the meal all that more enjoyable. He unashamedly stuffed himself, making up for the sparse meal he’d partaken of at McSorley’s the night before. Jo and Hanson, although amused by Lucas’ reaction to the sumptuous meal and his nearly insatiable appetite, were also lost in their enjoyment. So much so that they all failed to notice a certain fellow enter the residential hotel’s lobby, stop to sign the register, and pause, appearing confused for a moment. Then make his way up the stairs to his room. The room assigned to Dr. Henry Morgan (of 1896). 

The time-traveling trio, their appetites more than satisfied, returned to their room. Hanson had grabbed the key off of the dresser before they’d left so he unlocked the door and opened it. They went inside and critiqued each other’s 1890’s outfits again, deciding that Jo wore hers the best. 

“It suits you better than it does either of us,” Hanson observed. His own pale blue, three-piece suit with navy blue bordering the collar and lapels was definitely not to his liking. But at least his derby hat looked better on him than Lucas’ tall, black stovepipe hat. “Like you weren’t tall enough already,” he teased Lucas. 

“I look like Lincoln without a beard,” Lucas grumbled. “Only he never wore beige!” He studied his reflection in the mirror over the dresser and groaned, looking away. “Whatever force or whoever zapped these outfits on us is having the last laugh,” he grumbled. “Why can’t we be zapped an outfit that makes us look as cool as the Doc does?” 

“Well, at least you guys don’t have to worry about these scratchy, uncomfortable undergarments,” Jo told them. “Believe me, if I ever get my hands on whoever did this to us, they’ll wish they were never born. In any century!” 

Just then, they heard the key in the lock and saw the door open. They were greatly relieved to see the familiar face of their ME. They hardly noticed that he now sported a pencil-thin mustache and wore a dark grey three-piece suit instead of the dark blue one that he’d been zapped into. They happily converged on him with greetings and questions but were surprised when he recoiled from them almost in anger and demanded to know who they were and how they got into his room. 

“Wait,” Henry 1896 started. “Did Katrina let you in here?” When they didn’t respond immediately, he said, “Of course, I should have known. You’re the people she told me about right before I left for Philadelphia. The people she’s trying to help.” 

“Y-yes, we do need help,” Jo replied. Might as well latch onto this Katrina bandwagon if it would keep them out of hot water. “We … didn’t have a place to stay when we arrived yesterday.” No lie, she told herself. They did need help, especially since Henry had seemed to abandon them. And they did need a place to stay. 

“Well, I’m sorry but you can’t stay here,” Henry 1896 replied. “But I will help you procure rooms of your own. There are some vacancies just across the hall, I believe. They should do quite nicely for you.” He shot them a dazzling smile all too familiar to them and left to speak with the manager to procure their rooms. 

Their appreciative smiles faded once he closed the door. Lucas was the first to speak when he said, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that guy is the Doc.” 

“His ancestor, remember?” Hanson reminded him. 

Jo said nothing but wondered why this man, Henry’s ancestor, had made her feel the way he did just now. For nearly a year, just the sound of Henry’s voice with that lovely accent or the mere sight of him had begun to make her heart race at times. And she swore that she had experienced that same catch of her breath after having looked deeply into this man’s warm, caring eyes. Those large, brown, puppy dog eyes. She smiled, thinking that his ancestor’s willingness to go out of his way to help strangers was so like the Henry that she knew. Kindness was very underrated as being sexy, in her opinion. What? She halted her train of thought and asked herself if she had a thing for Morgan men. After a short introspective, she had to admit that she did have a thing for Henry Morgan. She then wondered again why this man had made her feel … the same way. 

vvvvvvvv 

Notes: 

Information on Victorian-era bathrooms found at [ https://www.brownstoner.com/architecture/victorian-bathroom-history-plumbing-brooklyn-architecture-interiors ](https://www.brownstoner.com/architecture/victorian-bathroom-history-plumbing-brooklyn-architecture-interiors/#:~:text=The%20first%20flush%20toilets%20in%20the%20U.S.%20were,to%20flush%20the%20toilets%20into%20a%20sewer%20system.)

The large breakfast may or may not have been common in New York City back in the 1890’s. After an unsuccessful Internet search, I used something from a scene in a 1930’s western movie. That was the heartiest breakfast I’d ever seen anywhere. And nothing’s too good for our crew from the 11th Precinct and the OCME, right? 


	4. McSorley Memories Ch 4 Doctor Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group gets settled into their own rooms with 1896 Henry's help. After an information-sharing session, Lucas proposes a startling hypothesis. But they do agree that coming clean with 1896 Henry might be a good thing. Before they can do that, though, he asks for and receives their help.
> 
> This is probably a very short chapter but I reached a stopping point and, thankfully, it is not from writer's block. Oh, Forever TV show, please come back!

After Henry’s ancestor had left her in the room that he’d procured for her, Jo wondered again why he made her feel the same way as whenever she had interacted with Henry in recent months. This man in her time would have been dead for maybe half a century. She shook her head to clear her mind of the weird thoughts and feelings, thinking that maybe she should see a psychotherapist whenever they did return to their own time. 

Her “new” room across the hall was virtually identical to his but was a bit smaller and had only one twin size bed. The closet-sized room was used just for that: a closet. Thankfully, Hanson and Lucas were together in a room that adjoined hers. She surveyed her surroundings then sat down in front of the vanity. Clearly, this room was furnished more to the likings of a female tenant. The lotions and powders, she assumed were meant for the use of all guests. Not a very sanitary thing for her or anyone else to consider, she thought. She studied her reflection in the mirror and tried to imagine living permanently in this time. 

“No way, Jose,” she muttered out loud to the reflection that showed her sporting a hairdo in an upsweep with tendril curls falling down from either side of her forehead, from her temples, and from the back of her neck. Not a bad look, she admitted, but it would be a bear to maintain or even to achieve on her own. They couldn’t just sit there and do nothing, though. 

“Where the hell are you, Henry?” she wondered out loud again. She had to get together with Hanson and Lucas to ‘puzzle things out’ as he’d said last night. It was out of character for him to have simply abandoned them. Maybe he had met with some kind of accident and was taken to a hospital. Or, God forbid, he’d gotten himself nabbed for skinny dipping. Then the thought struck her that he’d simply found a way to return to their own time and he couldn’t get back to them. At any rate, it appeared that the three of them were now left to figure things out on their own. Although this wasn’t a murder for them to solve, she had every confidence that the three of them could figure things out. They had no choice. 

Jo left her chair and walked over to the adjoining door and knocked on it. After a few seconds, she heard Hanson’s voice on the other side. “Mike, we gotta talk. Figure a way out of this.” 

“What about the Doc?” his muffled voice replied. 

“We can’t wait for him,” she told him. “Open the door.” She heard Lucas saying that there was no knob on their side. “There isn’t one on this side, either. Hold on,” she said. Then she grabbed a letter opener from the top of the vanity. It was a rare occasion that she found anything to thank her father for but she did so now as she used it to unscrew the metal covering from where the knob would have been. Several minutes later, they were able to open the door. She opted to join them in their room where she sat at the rolltop desk and they sat on the sofa. The three of them shared thoughts on their current predicament in an effort to understand how they’d gotten into it and how to get out of it. 

Two hours later, some clues emerged. Each of them had consumed the dark ale which was not their usual drink of choice. They’d found it to be not as bitter this time and a bit fruitier. Although it was supposed to have had a higher alcoholic content than the lighter, smoother ale, neither of them had felt the usual buzz of inebriation after drinking it. Just a sense of being … more aware. It was hard for them to describe how they’d felt but each of them had also been chatted up by the same older man in the Henry-like garb who’d spoken with an Irish brogue. 

“We ran into him right after we’d left the bar and he was going in,” Lucas said. 

“Yeah,” Hanson said with a cynical smile. “Told us to have fun.” He scoffed. “Some fun.” 

“He told Henry and me something similar when we ran into him inside the bar,” Jo told them. 

“His eyes were bright green … like emeralds,” Lucas said as if delivering ominous news. “His curly, red hair hid the tops of his ears. You know, to hide the pointy tops.” 

“Hah! You’re sayin’ he was, what, a leprechaun?” Hanson asked, unable to contain his laughter. “Oh, and he … banished us to this time because we got too close to his pot of gold! He was only a bit shorter than me, Lucas.” 

Lucas stood up and began to pace as he sought to reinforce his point of view. “But check it out, He had that twinkle in his eye and, and that burr when he spoke.” 

“It was a brogue,” Jo absent-mindedly corrected him. “An Irish brogue.” Leprechauns were an Irish myth. They didn’t exist. Besides, he didn’t have that funny hat or beard or those funny shoes with a buckle on them. No. No supernatural stuff like that had happened to them. Just … regular supernatural stuff like they’d gone through a wormhole and wound up in the past. Oh, if only Henry were here! He could help make sense of all this. 

“I’m tellin’ you guys, I’ve never seen anyone before with eyes that green,” Lucas continued. “Leprechauns --- even tall ones --- (he looked at Hanson as if to make a point) can be mischievous.” He sat back down on the sofa next to him but stared at the floor. “He probably put something in our drinks and zapped us back to this time for fun.” 

“Say, Henry drank the dark ale, too,” Hanson recalled, frowning. “Not his usual fancy pants drink of Macallan 25.” He shifted uncomfortably and said, “God, I wish he were here to help us.” He looked quickly between the two of them. “And don’t either of you tell him I said that when we get back.” 

Lucas stood up again and began to pace as he considered something. He then stopped and turned to face both of them. “Guys, we don’t have the Big Guy to consult on this. He’s probably made it back to our time ---” 

“How?” Hanson challenged him. 

“I don’t know!” Lucas replied, frustrated. “But he’s not here. We do, however, have a viable alternative right across the hall.” He waited for them to catch up to his meaning before adding, “I say we ask great-great-grandpa Henry to help us.” 

Jo was shaking her head and wiping her hand in the air away from her. Hanson jumped up and voiced what was on her mind with his emphatic, “No! He’ll think we’re nuts and call the cops. I told you, I don’t wanna be sent to jail in this time.” Lucas opened his mouth to protest. “I said, no! And that’s the end of it.” He paused to take in a couple of breaths to calm himself. “We can figure out how to get back on our own.” 

Jo suggested that they return to McSorley’s and check it out in the daytime. “Maybe we’ll get lucky,” she said, more hopefully than she really felt. She suddenly remembered that she had not returned the money to the hidden compartment of the rolltop desk in the room of Henry’s ancestor. “I have to return it to him and then … borrow it for the cab fare back to McSorley’s. Don’t want him to think we’re thieves.” 

They nodded in agreement and she returned to her room so that they could emerge from their individual rooms and not be accused of any impropriety. Just as they entered the hallway, they saw Henry’s ancestor hurriedly leaving his room with his medical bag. They managed to catch up to him as he rushed down the stairs. 

“Dr. Morgan,” Jo began. “We can see that you’re in a hurry but we need to ask you something.” He stopped and turned those large, brown, puppy dog eyes to her and she lost her train of thought. 

“We actually need your help,” Lucas said, seeing that Jo appeared to be tongue-tied at the moment. 

The doctor turned his gaze to Lucas and said, “Sorry. Can we discuss it later?” he asked. “I have to make a few house calls.” He hesitated for a moment and looked at all of them. “Do either of you have medical training?” 

Lucas replied that he did. Hanson replied that he and Jo had “a little”. 

“Might I enlist you to aid me? My nurse, Katrina, is attending her sister’s birthing and will be unavailable to assist me.” 

“Um, sure,” Jo said, finding her voice again. “Anything we can do to help. Oh, um, this is yours.” She held out to him the money from the desk. “We only wanted to borrow it to get some breakfast but it was free. I don’t want you to think we’re thieves.” She held it out to him but he refused it. 

“You may keep it to cover any future expenses. But thank you for letting me know,” he said with a soft smile. He checked the time on his pocket watch and they all recognized how similar it was to Henry’s. 

Jo also recognized how similar his medical bag was to an old one that Abe had sold to a podiatrist then bought it back from him. He’d presented it to Henry the first time she’d shared dinner with them on the rooftop terrace. Of course, she told herself. Henry had simply inherited the watch and the bag. He called out “Horse!” and jarred her out of her thoughts. 

They boarded the Hansom cab when it rolled up in front of them and they headed off to help Henry’s doctor ancestor make a few house calls. It was the least they could do, they each thought, since he’d been so kind to them already. It was almost like being with their own Henry. His accent, his looks, those same looks, that tamed curly hair, and the way he checked his pocket watch. The way they could see how focused he was on the tasks ahead of him. And while seated next to him, that now-familiar tingle went through her again. Oh, man, she was really going to need to talk to a shrink when they got back to their own time! 

vvvvvvvv 

Notes: 

Information on dark ale and lagers found at [ https://52brews.com/lager-vs-ale ](https://52brews.com/lager-vs-ale)

Slight reference to Forever TV show 2014-2015 episode The Pugilist Break S01/E05.


	5. McSorley Memories Ch 5 Back in the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry feels he has to reveal his condition to Reece in order to enlist her aid in getting their colleagues back from 1896. If he can get her to believe him about his perplexing condition, it will be easier for him to explain the time-travel situation.
> 
> This is a really short chapter but I didn't want you guys to wait too long for an update and I wanted to get this present-day reveal done before venturing back to 1896. Hint: I haven't yet decided if there will be a reveal or not back there but we'll see. Thanks for your patience, encouragement, interest, kudos, and comments.

Back in the Future … 

Earlier that day, Lt. Reece had phoned Henry in the morgue to find out if Jo or Hanson were down there with him. He had struggled to keep his voice calm and had replied in the negative. She had speculated that they’d possibly caught a case and were out in the field. He had only been able to reply that it was “quite possible”. The thought of them having been caught up in a confounded space-time continuum was too mind-boggling and awful to consider. But consider it, he must. For now, their relatives were calling the precinct and the morgue to find out where they were. Also, for that same reason, Henry was once again standing in Reece’s office fielding tough questions from her that he was hard-pressed to answer. How could he tell the Lieutenant that their three missing colleagues were most likely trapped back in 1896 New York? 

“Neither Jo nor Mike have checked in with anyone, anywhere,” Reece told Henry. “And you say that you have no idea where they could all be even though, by all reports, you were the last person to see them after you all left McSorley’s bar. Henry … what are you not telling me?” 

Henry pursed his lips and struggled to keep his features calm, his twitching hands clasped tightly behind his back. He wet his lips before responding. “Actually, Lieutenant, Jo --- I mean Det. Martinez and I did leave the bar at the same time.” 

“Well, did you see how they left?” 

“Ah, yes, yes, they shared a cab,” he told her. That was the truth but he felt awful for omitting the part about it being a horse-drawn cab named for an Englishman, Joseph Hansom, who had patented his design for it in 1834. 

“Well, they never made it to their homes,” she said more to herself, one hand on her hip. “I’ll have someone check the cab companies.” 

“Lieutenant … that won’t be necessary,” Henry said with a sigh. He didn’t know how, but he and the Lieutenant would have to put their heads together to figure out how to retrieve their friends from the past. In order to do that, though, he would have to explain to her exactly what had taken place last night. The chances that she would believe him, though, were slim to none. So, he knew that he would have to get her to first believe one unfathomable truth about him before she could believe the other unfathomable truth about their unexpected trip to the past. Their lives meant more to him than the preservation of his secret. “I think I can clear things up more quickly. I just … need you to trust me.” 

Reece paused and placed the desk phone’s receiver back into its cradle. “Alright, Doctor. But when you say it like that, you almost make me scared.” 

“That makes two of us,” he murmured. Then, rolling his shoulders back and gathering his courage, he said, “First, I need you to drive me to the edge of the East River.” 

“East … you mean where you …?” she haltingly asked, her head bent forward but with her eyes widened in surprise. 

He closed his eyes and nodded. “If you would, please.” 

They began to leave her office and Henry heard her say, “This better be good, Henry.” 

vvvv 

Reece parked in one of the spaces facing the river. “Okay, Henry, we’re here. Tell me what I need to know,” she said as she turned to look at him. 

He reached into his inside coat pocket and fingered the small scalpel hidden there. Reece frowned and asked him what was next. “I want to first explain to you why I have been arrested so many times from this area for parading around nude.” 

“What does your skinny dipping have to do with our missing people?” she asked almost indignantly. She couldn’t see what his strange nudity problem had to do with the situation at hand. 

“Nothing,” he replied. “But I do not and never have skinny-dipped out there,” he said, indicating the choppy, dirty waters. 

“Henry. You’re trying my patience,” she gently warned him. 

“Each time that I die ---” 

“Die?!” 

He swallowed and plod on, his breathing and heart rate ticking up. “Each time that I die, my body vanishes and I come back to life in the nearest large body of water. And I’m always naked.” The words rushed out from him for fear that if he stopped to reconsider telling her, he wouldn’t. He shook his head and continued. “It is not something that I relish doing and if I could stop it, I would.” 

Reece stiffened and leaned away from him, suddenly more concerned than usual for his mental state. “Doctor, none of what you’re saying makes any sense. None of this is possible. You do realize that, don’t you?” 

“Understandable that you would not believe me,” he said with a touch of resigned sadness in his voice. “That’s why I came prepared to prove it to you.” 

“Prove it? Prove it how?” A terrible realization dawned on her and she began to shake her head slowly from side to side. “Ohhh, nooo, you are NOT going to do anything crazy right in front of me!” 

“Sorry, Lieutenant,” he said. “But I have no choice.” He ventured a look at her and explained, “In order for you to believe what I have to tell you about our three missing friends, I must first make you believe what I’m about to show you.” With that, he pulled out the scalpel. 

A scream erupted from her at the sight of him slitting his throat and all of the resultant blood that gushed out onto the interior of the car and onto her. When he vanished a millisecond later, a flood of blinding white light took all of the blood and the rest of her scream with it. Trembling and traumatized, her heart pounded in her ears as she frantically looked around the car’s interior in search of the ME. Something on the floor mat caught her attention and she looked down to see Henry’s gold pocket watch next to the bloody scalpel. With a shaky hand, she picked up the watch and looked up and out at the water when she heard a loud splash. 

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God,” she repeated in a shaky whisper at the sight of Henry --- naked Henry --- swimming toward shore. 

vvvv 

Abe looked over at Lt. Reece sitting on the settee in the living area above the antique shop. She’d arrived with Henry a little more than an hour ago and had listened quietly to him explain a little more about his immortality and then about his trip to 1896 New York with Jo, Hanson, and Lucas, who now remained there. She had said very little and just nodded every once in a while. 

“She doesn’t look too good,” Abe told his father in a lowered voice as they stood near the kitchen island and watched her with growing concern. “Are you sure you had to throw it on her with all that hutzpah?” 

“I’m sorry but we don’t have very much time, Abraham,” he replied defensively. 

“But she’s just … sitting there, staring out into space,” Abe said. “You knocked the functionality out of her!” 

“Well, I do admit that she is a bit more reticent than I’m used to,” Henry sadly observed. 

“Reticent? Dad, she’s a zombie!” 

“Abraham, I have every confidence that she’ll shake off her stupor any moment now.” They virtually stood at attention when she jumped up off the settee and marched over to them. 

“Got any more of that scotch?” she demanded more than asked. Abe nodded and grabbed the bottle. She pushed her empty glass over to him. “Pour.” Abe poured two fingers and placed the top back on it. Reece grabbed the glass and downed the liquid in one gulp. She then placed the glass down on the island and looked from one to the other, her gaze settling on Henry. He braced himself as she took a step closer to him, a determined look in her eye. Abe contemplated grabbing the wooden spoon lying on the counter next to a pot of beef stew simmering on the stove. 

Reece threw her arms around Henry in a bearhug more crushing than any Lucas had given him. “You crazy S.O.B!” she murmured and he could tell that she was crying when he felt some wetness on his shoulder. She pushed him away roughly and angrily wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Scared the s—t out of me!” 

Henry smiled a genuine smile of relief mixed with guilt. “I do apologize again, Lieutenant.” 

She waved a hand at him, shaking her head and smiling. “Tell you what; you go shower that river smell off of you so we can figure out how to get those three back to the future.” 

He smiled wider but left the kitchen and headed off to shower. Abe, pleasantly relieved that he wouldn’t have to fend off the gun-toting policewoman with a pathetic wooden spoon, reached for another glass instead and placed it on the island next to hers. Reece leaned over on the island and watched Abe replenish her drink and pour himself a fresh one. He pushed hers over to her and she picked it up. They both took a sip of their drinks. 

“So. What’s your story?” she asked him. “Are you an Immortal, too?” 

Abe ducked his head slightly, realizing that what he said next would be another bombshell for her. “Eh, no. I’m just a regular mortal like you.” He hoped her questions about him would end there. 

“You two seem to have a special relationship, though,” she pointed out. 

“Abraham, there isn’t any bar soap in my bathroom!” Henry called from the hallway. 

“I forgot to separate it out!” Abe called back at him over his shoulder. “Look in my bathroom!” After a few moments, Henry called out a thank you. “Sure thing, Pops!” he called back. 

At hearing that, Reece began to choke on her drink and Abe worriedly patted her on the back to help clear her breathing passages. Her sputtering came under control and she took in a few deep breaths and swallowed before saying, “Subtlety just doesn’t seem to run in you guys’ family, does it?” 

vvvvvvvv 

Notes: 

Information on Hansom cabs found at [ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hansom_cab ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hansom_cab)


	6. McSorley Memories Ch 6 Good Ole 1896

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo, Hanson, and Lucas, while helping the doctor make house calls in a poorer section of the city, run into someone else's probable ancestor. But neither man can hold a candle to Henry in the present or to his "ancestor" in 1896 because they're scumbags.
> 
> vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

_“Might I enlist you to aid me?” Henry 1896 asked of the three. “My nurse, Katrina, is attending her sister’s birthing and will be unavailable to assist me.”_

_“Um, sure,” Jo said. “Anything we can do to help.”_

vvvvvvvv 

They rode with the doctor in the Hansom cab as it took them to the edge of a poorer section of the city for the driver refused to venture further. This time Jo sat diagonally across from him, not wishing to experience the warm, tingling sensation she’d previously felt when she’d sat next to him and the Henry she knew. It was more to deprive the guys of possibly seeing her react to how he might make her feel. And for herself, she had to admit. It was just too weird to have both Henry and his ancestor stoke once-believed dying emotional embers into flame again. Maybe … maybe she just missed their borderline crime-solving savant of an ME. 

“We walk from here,” the doctor announced to them. They all disembarked from the cab and he paid the driver, who surprised and confused him by saying he would take the fare this time. This time? The driver confused him further when he said that he chose not to accept his fare from the night before as a thanks for all the help he’d been to him and others in the community. As he drove away, the confused doctor stared after him then turned to face his three new assistants. 

“I have absolutely no idea what the fellow was blabbering about,” he told them, shrugging. “He must have me confused with Dr. Carter. No matter. Follow me,” he said and began walking deeper into a neighborhood the like of which they’d only seen in old photos and silent films. They hung close to him all the while sparrow-eyeing everyone and everything that they passed. The many carts filled with the various wares being peddled like fruit, fish, clothing, and baked goods. The railings along the outside of practically every window used as a makeshift clothesline. Some of the people looked hungry and desperate. Others looked downright dangerous. Both groups made them nervous as they eyed them as if working it out in their minds how to separate them from any valuables they might be carrying. The more normal-looking sorts cheerily greeted the doctor in Italian, Greek, Russian, English, broken English, and a few other languages unfamiliar to them. 

Before they knew it, they were following him up the stairs into a row house full of food aromas from different ethnicities mixed in with the smells of human existence. Just as it had happened outside, several tenants happily greeted the medical man as he worked his way down the hallway and up three flights of stairs. It gave them the feeling of being in the wake of a modern-day celebrity. They recalled that during the ride over, he’d informed them of the patients he was calling on and why. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

_“A twelve-year-old boy and his 14-year-old brother were playing on the stairs and fell down, breaking their legs.” He looked at Lucas and Hanson. “I’ll need the muscle from you two to help hold them still while I set the breaks.” The nodded in reply. He then looked across at Jo and asked if she’d had much experience caring for lanced wounds. Although it totally grossed her out, she replied that she had._

_“Excellent,” he said. “My nurse, Katrina Carter, usually assists me in this area. One of my patients is a cab driver with such a wound. Luckily, he stands while driving the cab but apparently, he failed to care for it as I’d instructed him to so it has become infected.” He grinned and shook his head. “I wouldn’t have even known about it if his wife hadn’t contacted me.” He shook his head again. “He was too embarrassed to let me know.”_

_“So,” he began, “where did you all obtain your medical training?”_

_They amused him as they attempted to pass to each other the opportunity to respond to him. Finally, Jo cleared her throat and replied, “School of Hard Knocks.”_

_He frowned a bit and scoffed; his features taken over by a knowing smile. “Ah, yes. I, myself am a_ _proud alumnus_ _.”_

_In an effort to shift the conversation away from themselves, Lucas, seated next to him, asked how long he’d been a doctor. They saw his smile fade a bit and a familiar, faraway look cloud his eyes. They’d seen that faraway look so many times in Henry’s eyes as he’d gotten lost in “his imaginings”, as he called it. A family trait, they each concluded._

_“For a few years,” was all he said. There was no more conversation until they’d arrived at the edge of the poor neighborhood._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The two boys with the broken legs were brave, Lucas and Hanson had to admit, and did not cry out in pain as they’d held them tightly enough to minimize their movements while the doctor set their bones and applied splints. He then gave them enough money to “run outside and buy some milk, fruit, and bread” for the family of eight headed up by a single mother. After they left, he and Jo walked up two more flights and entered the rooms occupied by the cab driver with the lanced wound that had become infected. 

The wife greeted them at the door. “He’s in there,” she told them, pointing into the doorway of another room. “Dolph was too ashamed to let you know that he’d not followed your orders, Doctor.” Henry nodded and hurried over to her husband who was lying face down on the bed. He murmured an apology to him. 

“Not to worry,” the doctor said. “We’ll have you fixed up in no time.” He introduced Jo as his assistant but the wife objected strongly to her presence. 

“No other woman, I told you, Dr. Morgan! Only woman is me who sees my husband’s backside!” 

Backside? Jo repeated to herself. Yuck! “Hey, I totally, totally understand that,” she said, holding up both hands. “I’ll just, um, wait in the next room.” She kicked herself for having promised to help but no way was she going to help drain the puss out of the wound on his butt. And Henry’s ancestor had failed to disclose that fact to her so she didn’t feel too bad about going back on her word. Besides, just one glimpse of that festering wound, just the thought of it, made her flesh crawl. I wouldn’t have been much help to him anyway, she told herself. 

The man, Dolph, dealt with his treatment just the opposite of the two brave boys and let out a gut-wrenching cry of pain as the doctor reopened the wound with a heated scalpel and cleaned it out with the help of his wife, Bengta. He left the man whimpering with his head buried in his arms and his wife rubbing his back and saying soothing things to him. 

Jo lowered her eyes in embarrassment as the doctor slowly approached her and stood in front of her in the outer room. “Guess I wasn’t much help after all,” she said. 

He chuckled and replied, “Don’t feel too bad,” he told her. “It wasn’t as bad as it looked and requires no stitches.” 

“Oh. Lucky him,” she replied, still avoiding making direct eye contact with him. Because there was that warm, tingly feeling again. She rubbed the back of her neck and turned slightly away from him. “Um, is there anything else you want me to help you with?” 

“No,” he replied. “I do have one more house call to make, though.” He walked out into the hallway with Jo right behind him. “It’s best that you don’t accompany me. I fear that my next patient may have a communicable disease for which there is no known cure. Perhaps you should return to the first apartment downstairs and help your two friends distribute the food they purchased for that family.” He turned to leave her but stopped when she asked if he wasn’t worried that he’d catch the disease. 

“I’ll survive,” he replied. “I always do.” 

Feeling more than a little deja vu, she laughed softly as he walked briskly up the stairs to tend to the diseased patient. Walking right into danger without much thought to his own safety. A lot like her ME friend, Henry, she noted. I suppose that’s just another inherited family trait, she speculated. But she did as he had suggested and walked back downstairs to the first apartment they’d entered. Hanson and Lucas arrived from outside just as she walked up to the door. Lucas knocked on the door and when it opened, the appreciative mother of eight took the bags of food from them and kissed all three of them on the forehead. 

“Bless you, bless you,” she said in between her wet kisses. Her ebullient smile suddenly faded as heavy footsteps approached. “Thank Dr. Morgan for me,” she whispered and quickly shut the door. 

Gruff voices accompanied the heavy footsteps. They saw a big-bellied man in a cheap suit and derby hat clear the landing and proceed up the stairs to the next floor. He eyed Jo admiringly and tipped his hat to her but there was something about him and the two men in work clothes and flat-topped hats that repulsed her. As they walked up the stairs, children playing on the stairs flattened themselves against the wall, their playfulness somberly placed on hold as they allowed the men to pass. Jo, Hanson and Lucas figured these guys had probably put a damper on things pretty frequently. The guy in the derby hat appeared to be in charge and his two companions, hired muscle. 

“How’d you like those bruisers knocking on your door demanding the rent?” Lucas cynically joked. 

“I’d pay on time every month,” Hanson said. 

“I’d pay extra,” Lucas joked again. 

They looked at Jo for her teasing response and she said, “I wouldn’t live here. They look … shady.” 

A scuffle was heard upstairs and they thought they also heard the doctor’s voice risen in anger. The three of them ran up two flights and saw the two men in the flat-topped hats appearing to close in on the defiant-looking doctor even as the man in the derby hat stood contentedly nearby and threatened him. 

“Everything okay, Doc?” Hanson asked. He, Lucas, and Jo glared at the three men. 

The man in the derby hat, who appeared to be in charge, raised an eyebrow in their direction and looked back at his men. A flick of his head and they stepped aside to allow the doctor to walk forward and join his three companions. 

“I’m fine,” he replied. The grim look on his face said otherwise, though. As they began to walk down the stairs, the man in the derby hat made a sarcastic remark regarding his insistence upon making house calls to the tenement dwellers. 

“If you’re wise, you’ll take my advice, Doctor, and abandon this crusade. These people simply aren’t worth the time and effort.” 

“That’s where you’re wrong, Delgros,” he hissed at him over his shoulder. “It’s money-grubbing bloodsuckers like you, who aren’t worth the time and effort!” 

That name. Delgros. What a coincidence. The three of them let the doctor go ahead of them but they looked back at the heartless-looking man in the derby hat to see if there was any resemblance to the Delgros scumbag of the present. Not really, they concluded; but both of them definitely were scumbags of their own makings. 

During the cab ride back to their residential hotel, the doctor recapped his past run-ins with the disagreeable man. Hanson offered for Lucas and him to “work him over”. The medical man chuckled before thanking him and telling him that that wouldn’t be necessary. 

“What if he or his goons really hurt ya one day?” Hanson asked. 

“Believe me,” he replied, appearing to be lost in thought. “I’d survive.” 

vvvvvvvvv 

Slight references to Forever TV show 2014-2015 Pilot episode and The Pugilist Break S01/E05. 

The part about the cab driver with the infected wound on his hiney is taken partly from _**The Hanging Tree,**_ a 1959 western film directed by Delmer Daves and based on the novelette, _The Hanging Tree_ , written by Dorothy M. Johnson in 1957. The film stars Gary Cooper, Maria Schell, George C. Scott, and Karl Malden. Cooper plays a doctor who lances a boil on the butt of the character played by Malden, who cries out in pain. That scene always made me laugh even though it also makes my flesh crawl just thinking about it.


	7. McSorley Memories Ch 7 The Displacement Theory

The cab ride took them to Columbus Hospital on East 19th Street where the doctor was dropped off so that he could make his rounds there. Before leaving, he paid the driver and instructed him to take them wherever they wanted to go. So, they decided to traverse back to Ground Zero for their journey to the past: McSorley’s. Jo had previously suggested they revisit the place to see if any clues could be better uncovered in the daytime. 

“Leprechauns are like vampires,” Hanson smirked as they walked up to the popular watering hole and studied its exterior. “They only come out at night.” 

“I beg to differ,” Lucas countered. “That same tall leprechaun we met in front of the bar before we were zapped --- saw him across the street when we were grocery shopping for that big family.” 

“Why didn’t you say somethin’?” Hanson demanded. 

“Look, I only saw him for a second,” Lucas replied. “Then he just vanished! Besides, we’d promised to buy that food for the Doc’s patients. B-but I’m sure he’ll show up again.” 

They sighed and looked at each other, then gathered their courage and walked inside. Jo, however, was refused entry. 

“Dang!” Hanson said. “Forgot that women weren’t allowed to go in until 1970.” He looked apologetically at her and said, “Sorry, Jo. We’re practically in the Dark Ages here.” 

She waved him off with a smile. “S’okay. You guys go in. I’ll wait out here.” As they turned to go inside, she reminded them not to take too long. “I don’t want to get arrested for solicitation!” 

The bar’s interior didn’t look much different from the way it did in the present which was now their future. It just looked a little cleaner (a little) and the playbills and posters along the walls looked a lot newer. Of course, Houdini’s handcuffs weren’t hanging on the rail because he’d donated them much later. Neither were there any wishbones hanging above since World War I hadn’t happened yet. But there were still photos and newspaper articles posted along the walls they had never seen before because they may have been removed before 1910. 

The twosome sat in the same seats just across from the bar that they’d sat in two nights ago. Only this time they were careful to order the light ale. No more dark ale for them. Especially not now. They surreptitiously surveyed the other patrons. 

Hanson raised his drink to his lips to take a sip but froze when he saw something. “You see what I’m seein’?” he whispered to Lucas. 

“Yeah,” Lucas replied. His drink was also frozen just inches from his lips and he was staring in the same direction as Hanson. 

They set their drinks down, abandoning them, and stood up. Just as they did, a waiter that they’d made eye contact with, quickly dropped his tray of drinks onto the nearest table and bolted past them toward the entrance. Hanson and Lucas grabbed him as he ran past and shoved him outside near Jo while he struggled unsuccessfully to free himself. After they explained to Jo who they thought he was, she looked at him and realized that he was the same older-looking man with the snow-white, curly hair and bright green eyes that she and Henry had encountered inside the bar two nights ago. At least, that’s the way that he appeared to her. 

“I can explain! I can explain! Just don’t hurt me!” the man with a shock of curly, red hair and bright green eyes pleaded. At least, that’s the way that he appeared to Hanson and Lucas. 

“Look, buddy, I don’t know who or what you are or what you did to us,” Hanson growled at him as he held onto one of his upper arms and a fistful of the front of his shirt. Lucas had his other arm in a viselike grip while Jo stood directly in front of the man. “All I know is that you’re gonna **fix** things back the way they’re supposed to be and I mean NOW!” Hanson tightened his grip on him and shook him hard. 

The man grimaced and realized that there was no way out for him. “Alright. Just don’t hurt me,” he pleaded again. 

“No promises!” Hanson said through clenched teeth. “Start talkin’ or we’re gonna have a field day takin’ turns breakin’ your fingers one by one. Then we’ll break your arms and work our way down.” 

“Now, now, that wouldn’t be very nice or productive,” he nervously admonished them. 

Hanson shook him again and demanded that he “TALK!” 

He looked at them all and swallowed. “It’s, uh, it’s ---” 

“Lemme guess. It’s complicated,” she wryly finished for him. 

“Well, it tis, it tis, lassie, but … mostly … magic,” he replied and chuckled nervously. “You, you’re the first ones to come back and find me.” He chuckled again. “Ever,” he added and gulped again. “Look, can we not do this in the middle of a busy street?” 

“I’ll strip ya naked and hang ya upside down from this street lamp if ya don’t start talkin’ and quick!” Hanson growled at him. “Now tell us what we need to know!” 

“Alright, alright, alright.” He paused to take in a deep breath. “I am Seamus. Seamus McSorley. Magician extraordinaire. Taught Houdini all he knew. Or, rather, will know.” 

“And you’re a leprechaun,” Lucas slowly added, wonder in his voice. 

“Lepre ---? Of course, not! Whatever put that ridiculous notion in your head, laddie?” Seamus shouted back at him causing passersby to stare. He lowered his voice and reiterated that he was not a leprechaun. Just a magician and a time traveler. And a really charming fellow once you got to know him. 

“Tell. Us. What. You. DID. To. Us!” Hanson growled again. 

“You were displaced,” he told them matter-of-factly. “It happens that occasionally, one or two people in the time period I wish to visit will be … displaced.” 

“You mean switched out,” Lucas said. Seamus nodded. “So, you wanted to visit the present.” 

“No, the future,” Seamus corrected him. 

“Okay, our present, your future,” Lucas amended. 

“Um, more like your future, as well,” Seamus responded. “For the moment,” he clarified. 

“How about you come back to our place and explain everything to us,” an annoyed Jo proposed. 

“No, no, that wouldn’t be a good idea,” he said, shaking his head vigorously. He then yelped when Hanson and Lucas squeezed his arms tighter. “Ay, to yer place; t'would be an excellent idea. Excellent!” He chuckled nervously and flashing a fake grin said, “Lead the way.” 

vvvv 

Back at the residential hotel, they hustled Seamus into the room that Hanson and Lucas were occupying. They listened intently as Seamus explained more about his gift of magic and his recent dabbling into time travel. When questioned if he had chosen to displace (switch) himself with Henry and that’s the reason he was no longer with them in the past, Seamus frowned and clamped his lips together. 

“Oh. That one.” He looked at each of them and said, “Certainly a puzzle, that one.” 

“That. One. Is our friend,” Jo told him, her arms crossed. “Is he or is he not back in the future?” 

“Oh, yes, he’s, he’s back,” Seamus assured her. “Back where he belongs. Knocked me clean back here. Only … it’s never happened to me before that a displaced person returned to their own time without me first initiating the move.” He appeared to be clearly troubled by that fact. “If I began not to care for the time period I was in, I merely traded places with the person and started over.” 

“If that’s how you do it,” Hanson began, “why did all of us get swept up into this?” 

“I was curious to find out if I could ‘displace’ or switch places with more than one person _of my own choosing_ ,” he replied. “Just an experiment. Nothing more.” 

“These are people’s lives you’re messing with,” Jo pointed out. “Not experiments.” 

Seamus raised a finger and nodded as she spoke. “It was nothing personal, lassie. Just me having a bit of fun, is all.” He tried flashing another grin at them but saw quickly that they were seeing none of what he referred to as his “charm”. 

“Okay, why didn’t we all go back to our own time along with Henry, then?” Hanson asked. 

“I’ve asked myself that same question,” Seamus replied, clearly confused. “Tis certainly a puzzle, that one. B-but I should remind ye again that I did not initiate the switch.” 

“Uh, did that funny-tasting dark ale we drank have anything to do with us winding up here in the past?” Lucas asked. 

“Funny tasting?!” Seamus repeated, apparently feeling insulted. “Merely a flavor enhancer to distract ye from yer, uh, unplanned journey.” 

“Well, we want you to start planning our next journey back home,” Jo sharply told him. 

Suddenly defiant, Seamus folded his arms and stuck out his chin. “Ye would do well, young lassie, to curb the harshness in yer voice if ye expect any cooperation from me.” 

Jo’s demeanor softened and she tilted her head to the side and batted her large, brown, lovely eyes at him and a soft, endearing smile replaced her scowl. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re right. But can’t you understand that we simply want to go home? We want to be back with our family and friends and resume our work helping to curb the crime in this great city of New York.” 

She had uncrossed her arms and walked slowly over to where he sat between Hanson and Lucas on the sofa. She appeared to have eyes only for him, though, as she kneeled down in front of him and grasped his hands, squeezing them. “You say that you’re a magician extraordinaire.” 

He nodded jerkily and managed to say, “Th-that I am, lassie.” 

She rubbed her thumb over the top of one of his hands and appeared to blink back tears as she sorrowfully pleaded for him to work his magic and send them back home. Seamus appeared to be overwhelmed though quite pleased with the attention from her. Such a lovely lass, he thought to himself. Hanson and Lucas managed to bite their laughter back and remain silent while she turned the tables on the man and worked her own brand of charm on him. 

“Well, uh, when ye put it that way … for ye … I’ll do it for ye, lassie.” Seamus glanced at the two men sandwiching him and then back at her. “And I’ll gladly send yer bone breakers with ye.” 

“Great!” Jo exclaimed and jumped to her feet. “So. When? What do we have to do?” she eagerly asked. 

“Tomorrow night,” Seamus replied, then slightly shielded himself from a possible angry reaction from either of them. When neither of them attacked him, he lowered his hands from his face. “It’s, uh, the way it must be for the four of ye. Something to do with repairing the timeline.” 

“The four of us?” Lucas asked, confused. “You mean the three of us, don’t you?” 

“Yeah, Henry’s already back in his time,” Hanson said. 

Oh, that one. Back in his time. All times appear to be his time. Seamus kept his thoughts to himself and replied, “Did I say four? Of course, I meant the three of ye.” He chuckled and said, “Tomorrow night at McSorley’s.” 

Although disappointed, the three of them realized that there was little they could do until tomorrow night. But they eagerly looked forward to it and being returned home. In the meantime, it was decided that Seamus would bed down on the sofa so that Hanson and Lucas could keep an eye on him. And then there was the matter of dinner. Seamus, in a mostly conciliatory move, offered to treat all of them to a fabulous dinner at Delmonico's across the street. They took him up on his offer and left the room. 

“Sure ‘n tis a fine spread they have there,” Seamus gleefully informed them as they dodged the traffic of horse-drawn wagons and buggies to reach the restaurant across the street. Just as they set foot on the sidewalk, they walked toward the restaurant’s entrance. Seamus looked over at Jo walking beside him with Hanson and Lucas behind them. 

“Sure ‘n tis a fine thing to charm the boots off of the likes of me, eh, lassie?” he smirked at her. “But don’t ye think ye should save all of that flirtatiousness for him?” Jo’s jaw dropped and her eyes popped open wide but she couldn’t get any words to form. “Don’t worry, lassie. Things will all work out with him in time.” 

vvvvvvvv 

Notes: 

Information on Columbus Hospital found at [ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cabrini_Medical_Center#Columbus_Hospital ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cabrini_Medical_Center#Columbus_Hospital)

I had to Google it to find out if New York City actually had sidewalks in the 1890’s before I put it in the story. They did. And trolley cars as seen on a few youtube videos of NYC street scenes filmed between 1894 and 1901. 


	8. McSorley Memories Ch 8 Magic and a Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seamus drops a bit of magic to prove that he is the Real McCoy (see Notes at the bottom). In the process, Jo, Hanson, and Lucas learn that their Henry does have feelings for her. 1896 Henry finds out that they are not who they presented themselves to be. But it now appears that at both ends of the time spectrum, a plan has been formulated to get the three of them back to their own time.

vvvvvvvv

After dinner, the partial Team Morgan and Seamus returned to Hanson’s and Lucas’ room. Seamus promised to be with them the next night when he said would be the most opportunistic time to return to their future. What little knowledge he had of Henry’s immortality, though, he elected to keep to himself. The sense of loyalty he felt to the man regarding his extraordinary secret was as unexpected as it was unshakeable. Another piece of the puzzle concerning the long-lived man, he supposed. As extraordinary as his own gift of magic was, this man’s situation was beyond his comprehension or control. Even so, he thought he could learn a thing or two by just being involved with him through his companions. 

“You’re sure we can trust him to stay here until tomorrow night?” Lucas whispered to Jo and Hanson while all three of them stared at Seamus. 

“Oh, but I never promised to stay here,” Seamus pointed out. “I can hear ye quite well, laddie.” 

“So, you’re just gonna bail?” Hanson exploded at him. 

“Shhh! Please lower yer voice, me bucko,” he calmly advised Hanson. “I will return tomorrow evening and we shall all go together to McSorley’s.” He looked from one to the other and raised a finger and his eyebrows. “Magician’s Honor.” 

“We only have your word that you’ll return and that you’re even a magician,” Jo said. 

Hanson took a few steps closer to him and in a warning tone, said, “If you don’t show back up tomorrow, I’ll hunt you down like a dog til the end of my days.” 

Seamus closed his eyes and sighed before opening them again. “Ye, me bucko, have a flair for the dramatic,” he wearily told Hanson. “The three of ye still doubt me after all I’ve done fer ye.” Their eyebrows flew up then leveled off into sideways glares. 

“I’ve shared the truth with ye, more than I should have. Fed ye and promised to help ye on tomorrow’s eve,” he said as he listed the good that he’d recently done for them. “Fine. Ye leave me no choice but to prove that I am the real, eh, McCoy.” 

He walked over to the dresser and drew their attention to the mirror above it. With a snap of his fingers, fuzzy images gradually sharpened into crystal clarity of Henry and Reece in 2015. Gape-mouthed, the threesome crowded in front of the mirror alongside Seamus and watched their two colleagues as they appeared to be having a serious conversation. 

“That’s not the boss’ office,” Hanson noted. “Not the Doc’s either.” 

“It’s the apartment that Henry shares with his roommate, Abe,” Jo supplied. She knew that room well. Had even slept on that settee a few times. But she wasn’t going to let these two guys know and she hoped that Seamus would have no way of knowing, either. 

“Oh, yeah,” Lucas said. “I remember being there earlier this year.” The other two looked at him in surprise and he stammered out a clarification. “The Big Guy let me see his basement lair.” He thought it best to leave out the fact that he’d also brought over the boxed dirt from the grave of their recent cold-case missing person, Belinda Smoot, for them to examine. 

Jo wondered when it was that Lucas had visited since neither Henry nor Abe had bothered to mention it but her attention returned to Henry and Reece discussing what she could only conclude to be their predicament of being trapped in 1896. Hanson was the first to speak, though, when he said that they had to be talking about them. “Isn’t there something you can do to let them know we’re all right?” she asked Seamus while transfixed with the images displayed in the mirror. 

“I’ll try,” Seamus said. He waved his right hand back and forth in front of the images with his palm facing the mirror and his fingers spread apart but after only a few passes, he stopped. “Tis no use, lassie. My powers simply don’t work against him.” 

“Then use them to work _with_ him,” Jo suggested. She definitely didn’t know how any of this worked but sometimes you had to go with the flow instead of against it in order to get results. Any results would be appreciated. 

Seamus looked at her considering. “Not quite sure I know what ye mean, lassie, but I’ll try. Seems like I’ve been trying to make him come to my side. Maybe I do need to go over to his.” He raised his hand again and repeated the motion only much, much slower. After several minutes, they began to hear Henry’s and Reece’s voices. Seamus stopped the waving motion and clenched his fist tightly as if he held something inside that was trying to escape. Soon the voices from 2015 were heard. 

Reece: “Doctor, I know you’ve been telling me the truth but how in the world are we to bring them back from the 1890’s? Not even the world’s most brilliant scientists have been able to achieve anything like time travel.” 

Henry: “Unfortunately, I have no idea.” 

Reece: “And you don’t remember how you got back here,” she stated pensively. 

Henry: “No. I simply went to sleep there and woke up in my own bed in my own time the next morning.” 

Abe entered the room and stood in front of them with his hands on his hips. “Don’t crime solvers always say that revisiting the scene usually helps? In this case, there’s not a traditional crime in the sense that there’s no murder but still … worth a shot.” 

Henry thought for a second and then stood up to face him. “Good suggestion, Abraham. But when?” 

Abe: “Go every night at the same time for how long it may take. You’re bound to get lucky.” 

Reece: “According to what you told me, Doctor, the time has now passed.” She stood up. “How about we try tomorrow night?” 

Henry: “Agreed, Lieutenant.” 

Reece: “Joanna.” She smiled. 

Henry: “Henry.” He smiled back at her. 

Abe: “We’d love to have you stay for dinner.” 

Reece: “And I’d love to take you up on that offer but I really need to get home and let my family see me sometimes.” They all laughed. “Good night, you two.” 

She left and Henry followed her down the stairs to let her out. After a few moments, he returned and stood in the middle of the room with his hands shoved down in his pockets while something appeared to weigh heavily on his mind. The three in 1896 watched in awed silence and regretted that although it seemed as though they could reach out and touch the images in the mirror, speak to them, they knew it wasn’t possible. Abe stood up and walked over to Henry. He patted him on the shoulder. 

Abe: “You’re thinking about her.” 

Henry: “Abe, I’m thinking about all of them.” 

Abe: “Of course, we care about all of them. We want all of them back. But be honest with yourself for once. You --- you need her. And when we get her back, you know what you have to do.” 

Henry: “Need I ask?” 

Abe: “Tell. Her.” 

Henry closed his eyes, shook his head, and turned his back to him. Abe grabbed him by his arms and spun him back around to face him again. Whatever he was saying to Henry, however, was lost to them because the auditory capabilities of the futuristic transmission failed at that point. It was the last clear image they saw before the mirror returned to normal and reflected a look of surprise and embarrassment on Jo’s face as well as looks of amusement and curiosity on Hanson’s and Lucas’ faces. 

Jo had been totally taken by surprise to hear Abe tell Henry that he needed her. Needed her? Did that mean what she … hoped it did? And Henry should “tell her” something. She remembered Abe having said the same thing when she’d confronted Henry at the shop with that black-and-white photo of the smiling young couple and their cute baby. But she just wished that the guys hadn’t heard that part of their conversation. All she knew is that they had better keep their big mouths shut. Whatever was happening (or not happening) between Henry and her was their business and nobody else’s! Man! She just had to get back home! 

Seamus, though a tiny bit embarrassed himself, was happy to learn that his earlier assessment of Jo’s and Henry’s feelings for each other was correct. He turned to face them with a whimsical smile on his face. “These be your friends?” he asked them. The three of them nodded, still awestruck at what they’d just witnessed. “Have ye any further doubts that I be a magician?” They shook their heads. “Then I bid ye goodnight and I shall return as promised on tomorrow’s eve.” In the blink of an eye, he was gone. 

Lucas walked over and waved his hand in the spot where Seamus had stood only a second ago. “He’s more than just a magician,” he said, obviously mesmerized. 

“Oh, ya think?” Hanson mockingly replied. 

Henry’s near-admission that his feelings for Jo went beyond just friendship and Abe’s urging him to tell her something when she returned, gradually came back to them. 

“Jo, for what it’s worth,” Hanson began, “looks like the Doc’s got a thing for ya and … I think it’s a good thing.” 

“Me, too,” Lucas chimed in. 

“Whatever it is he needs to tell ya when we get back --- because we are gonna get back --- I hope it’s nothin’ bad cuz … I think the two of ya’d make a good team. Couple,” he clarified. 

“Me, too,” Lucas echoed. 

“Guys, I appreciate your interest in my love life or lack, thereof,” she said. “But can we just drop it and concentrate on what we have to do tomorrow night?” 

“Sure, sure,” Hanson replied, spreading his hands. “Consider it dropped.” 

“Dropped,” Lucas echoed again and slowly shaking his head and slicing a hand away from him. 

Jo fought against rolling her eyes and said, “See you guys in the morning. I’m turning in.” 

They bid each other goodnight but she was stopped from departing when they heard a knock at their room’s door. She opened the adjoining door and scooted inside her room and closed it. When she recognized the voice of Henry 1896 in their room with an edge to it, she entered their room again. 

“What’s going on?” she asked when she saw the unsmiling doctor standing in the middle of the room and frowning at Hanson and Lucas. 

He eyed her closely as she joined them. “That’s just what I was about to ask your two friends here. But now that you’ve joined us, perhaps one or all of you can provide the answer for me.” 

“Wha-what’s … whaddaya mean what’s goin’ on?” Hanson shakily asked. Disappointment showed in the doctor’s eyes under his furrowed brow and made the out-of-time detective feel uncomfortable. “We, uh ---” 

“Before you go any further,” the doctor cautioned him, “I had a very interesting chat this afternoon with my nurse, Katrina Carter. It turns out that the two medical students she’s helping are staying with her and her husband, Dr. James Carter, Sr., in their son’s bedroom while he’s away at boarding school. Now, who are you people, and why have you found it necessary to misrepresent yourselves to me?” When they didn’t respond immediately, he said, “It would be nice to get some answers from you.” 

“Are you gonna call the cops on us?” an anxious Lucas asked. 

The bite in his tone lessened a bit as he assured them that he would not have them arrested. “I understand that sometimes people get a little desperate when they feel they have nowhere to turn for help. Believe me, I know full well what that’s like. And neither of you strikes me as being the nefarious type. But in order for you to continue to receive any further help from me, I do need to at least know that you are not fugitives from justice.” 

“Oh, no, no, nothing like that,” Jo assured him. “We’re just kind of … lost.” 

He frowned when she said that and frowned deeper when Lucas said, “More like stuck.” 

When they failed to say anything else, he released his frown and a sigh. “Have it your way. We all have our secrets. Oh, I almost forgot.” He reached into his inside coat pocket and pulled out three small envelopes and handed one to each of them. “It’s payment for your help earlier today.” He raised a hand at their protests over accepting it. “It’s best that you keep it. Your lodgings are paid for through the end of the week but payment is your responsibility after that.” He nodded, then turned to leave. 

Lucas looked at his two companions and then tugged at the doctor’s sleeve. “Doc-doctor?” 

To the doctor, the young man seemed to be very troubled about something but also unwilling to say anything further based on the warning looks from Hanson and Jo. He looked at them then back at Lucas and smiled slightly. “I’ll leave you three to work it out amongst yourselves. Remember, I’m right across the hall if there’s anything else you wish to share with me. I believe you’ll find me the least judgmental person you’ll ever meet.” 

_"The least judgmental person you'll ever meet."_ Henry's declaration to her about his high level of openmindedness last year during the first case they'd worked on came back to her. Odd that his ancestor would utter nearly the same exact words to them. Were acceptance and self-effacement also just some other family traits?

After he left, they each released a deep sigh of relief. Although they felt guilty about accepting his money and not being truthful with him, neither of them were willing to risk being hauled off to the looney bin in a straight-jacket. Their reluctance to share the truth with the doctor reminded her of how uncomfortable Henry had been when she’d questioned him about that black-and-white photo or about that dagger that he’d doggedly pursued and obtained behind her back. From time to time, she wondered what it was he was holding back from her. Whatever it was, she told herself with all confidence, it was nothing as out of this world as what she and the guys were going through. She was sure of that. 

vvvvvvvv 

Notes: 

The Real McCoy 

Elijah McCoy was a former slave born in either 1843 or 1844 and was also a mechanical genius and inventor. He patented the drip cup device to automatically lubricate engines or machines. It was considered to be the best system and no engine or machine was complete until it had a McCoy Lubricator. One theory as to where the expression “The Real McCoy” originated is that railroad engineers looking to avoid inferior copies would request it by name and inquire if a locomotive was fitted with “the real McCoy system”. The phrase “real McCoy” soon caught on as a way of saying that people were getting the very best equipment available. 

[ https://windsorstar.com/business/local-business/its-the-real-mccoy ](https://windsorstar.com/business/local-business/its-the-real-mccoy)

Slight reference to Forever TV show 2014-2015 episode The Fountain of Youth S01/E03. Yes, 1896 Henry's nurse, Katrina, is married to Dr. James Carter, Sr., and they are the parents of an 18 y/o son named James, Jr. In this fic, he has never met Henry because, as we all know, he doesn't stay in one place any longer than six or seven years. And James has been off to boarding school and after that, medical school. Henry leaves New York in 1898 and by the time he returns in 1905, James merely thinks that his friend, Henry, is the nephew of his mother's former boss. James dies in 1906, never having learned of Henry's secret. Lame, I know, but that's my story and I'm sticking to it :D 

Slight references also to Forever TV show 2014-2015 Pilot, episodes The Night in Question S01/E21, and The Last Death of Henry Morgan S01/E22.


	9. McSorley Memories Ch 9 Return Postponed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both halves of Team Morgan, past and present, determine to revisit McSorley’s the next night in the hopes that the three left behind in 1896 can finally be retrieved. For Henry, Reece, and Abe in 2015, it’s only a theory; but Jo, Hanson, and Lucas in 1896, have received what they believe to be irrefutable evidence from the magical Seamus that it’s a plan that will work. Fate will intervene, though, temporarily derailing their plans. 

vvvvvvvv 

The next morning in both centuries found all parties grateful for a new day but anxious for the hours to fade into night time so that they could descend upon McSorley’s and repair the timeline, as Seamus had told the three stuck in 1896. As usual, Abe prepared breakfast and enjoyed it with his father, then he opened up the shop. Henry and Reece followed their usual routines and reported for work. Although their co-workers now had more questions for them, they could only answer them without giving up too much information. Nothing about their plan that night and certainly nothing about Henry’s condition. Never! They wondered, hoped, that once the three returned to their own time in 2015, all knowledge of previous events concerning their journey to the past would be wiped from memory along with the timeline repair. 

The 1896 threesome rose as usual and took care of their grooming duties. Then, they had another sumptuous breakfast in the hotel’s dining room. Uppermost in their minds, though, was their date with destiny that night at McSorley’s. 

“I’m really gonna miss this morning banquet,” Lucas admitted before he popped the last bite of his thick steak into his mouth. “All of this for free just for paying pennies for those nice rooms.” 

“We didn’t pay for the rooms, remember?” Jo reminded him. “If it weren’t for Henry and his ancestor, we really would be lost here.” She wiped her mouth with her napkin and placed it back on her lap. “So. What’ll we do, guys, until tonight?” 

Hanson suggested they take in a boxing match that afternoon. His enthusiasm was sharply curtailed by Jo’s look of disapproval and Lucas’ look of total disinterest. “Uh, guess we could go sightseeing,” Hanson then suggested. “Of course, I think it might be more interesting to see what boxing matches are like here.” He eyed Jo and said, “But the statue of liberty sounds interesting, too,” he conceded. He’d only taken the tour a couple of dozen times growing up and later with his wife, Karen, and their two boys. 

“You know, I’d love to browse through some of the shops on Broadway,” Jo said. “You two go to your boxing match. We’ll meet up here afterward.” 

“Ya sure, Jo?” Hanson asked. This was an opportunity to see the early rawness of the sport and he didn’t want to pass it up. 

“Actually, I’d like to check out the movie theaters,” Lucas said with a wide grin. “Silent films. Awesome.” 

“I don’t think there are any yet,” Hanson told him. He shrugged when Lucas and Jo looked questioningly at him. “When I had the same thought yesterday, I looked it up in their telephone directory. Nothin’. They got burlesque halls now,” he said, looking at Lucas. 

Lucas was silent for a few moments then perked up a bit. “Think I’d rather ride the streetcars. Take in the sights and sounds of this city in its infancy. Being here gives me lots of ideas for my next short film,” he explained. 

After bravely, if not foolishly, deciding to explore this past version of New York City separately, they ended their meal and left to do just that. Their separate destinations would begin, however, with each of them boarding the same streetcar. It was fascinating to see how closely the various conveyances came to pedestrians, dogs, and other conveyances and even an occasional traffic cop without colliding with them. The controlled chaos was uniquely New York and brought to their minds the hustle and bustle of modern times. Nothing much had really changed, they realized. Oh, the buildings were taller, grander, and more numerous; the vehicles sleeker and more sophisticated. But the never-ending street traffic that easily wove in and out of the throng of people that flowed from and in all directions was a strangely beautiful sight to behold. There may have been no cell phones or Internet or Times Square jumbotron to bombard the senses with text messages and 80-foot tall images, but the number of newsboys on each corner selling papers appeared to ensure that New Yorkers would stay on top of the latest news. 

The streetcar took them closer to the poor section of the city where they’d accompanied their doctor friend to help him with a few house calls. The sight of a window-less, four-wheeled, horse-drawn wagon with the words “Ambulance” emblazoned on its sides aroused their curiosity because of its looks; and its presence meant that someone was ill, injured, or worse. Given their normal occupations in their own time, they fought against a natural tendency to join the responders. However, when they saw the unconscious person on the gurney being loaded into the back of the ambulance, they jumped off the streetcar and ran over to it. 

It was the doctor! What could have happened to him? Just as the ambulance prepared to leave, they reached it and called out to the attendant in the back with the doctor. 

"We’re friends of his!” Jo yelled. “Where are you taking him?” 

“Bellevue!” the attendant yelled back. He lowered the thick, black curtains on either side to protect the patient and give him privacy. “Go!” he said to the driver and the ambulance left. 

They stared after it as it cut its way through the heavy traffic. “We have to get to the hospital,” Jo said. Hanson shared a look with Lucas before he raised his arm and yelled “Hey!” at the passing traffic. 

“What’s wrong?” he grumbled when no cab pulled up. “Worked for the doctor.” 

“You gotta yell Horse, Mister,” a young boy standing nearby told him. Hanson did so and the boy handed him the doctor's black medical bag before he walked slowly away shaking his head. 

“I just forgot!” he called after the boy. 

A cab pulled up almost immediately and while Jo and Lucas got inside it, a tearful teenaged girl walked up to Hanson and held out a gold pocket watch to him. “It belongs to Dr. Morgan,” she said. “It … fell out of his pocket when those men dumped him in that alley.” 

Hanson took the watch and thanked her. He then got into the cab and instructed the driver to take them to Bellevue. He studied the watch and his anger grew at the thought of Delgros’ goons working the doctor over and dumping him in the alley like yesterday’s garbage. Had to be them. Who else? If his badge worked for this time, he’d have them rounded up and charged with assault among other things. As things were, he felt he couldn’t do a thing. At least, nothing legal. 

“Here, Jo,” he said and handed the watch to her. “Maybe you should hang onto this for him.” 

She took the watch and held it in her hands. It felt so oddly familiar holding it. 

vvvv 

It wasn’t until two days later that the doctor finally woke up from his coma. All during that time, Jo had felt a strong need to visit him every day. She appreciated the fact that both Hanson and Lucas also understood how important it was to her to postpone their night visit to McSorley’s. For some reason she couldn’t fathom, it was as if her life depended on it for her not to try to leave just yet. As they had done the day before and the day before that, they sat in the waiting room on the stiff, straight-back chairs and awaited word on his condition. At 4:47 in the afternoon of the third day, his doctor finally approached them with a smile on his face and informed them that he was awake. 

“He really should stay a little longer but he insists on leaving,” Dr. Brewster said. 

“Is he well enough to leave, though?” Jo asked. She clutched his pocket watch with both hands. She was worried about him. Worried about a man she would never see again once they returned to their own time. The whole thing, the way she felt, the things she wanted to say to him, it was all messed up in her mind and she didn’t know how to fix it. A shrink, she wryly told herself. She definitely needed a shrink after all of this to help sort out her feelings. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_“Jo, you’re just feeling some_ _kinda_ _way about him because you miss the Doc,” Hanson concluded. “The sooner we get back to our time, the better. We can’t do anything about what happens or happened to him.”_

_“Then you and Lucas go back without me,” she said._

_“You can’t really mean that,” Lucas said, shocked. “What about Henry? He’s waiting for you in 2015!”_

_“I know, I know, I just … I’m sorry, guys, I just can’t leave yet until I know he’s all right.”_

_“Then … looks like I’m stayin’ with ya,” Hanson said and plopped down into a chair in the hospital waiting room._

_“Me, three,” Lucas said. “We stick together like the Three Musketeers.” He plopped down into a chair, too, and added, “We got into this predicament together, we’ll get out of it together.”_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Can we see him?” Jo asked. 

“We laundered Dr. Morgan’s clothing for him,” Dr. Brewster replied. “He’s getting dressed but might need some help. He was beaten very badly and is still pretty sore and weak.” He looked at Hanson and Lucas. 

“Sure thing,” Hanson said and Lucas concurred. “We’ll help him.” He and Lucas left to go to the doctor’s hospital room and help him dress. 

vvvv 

Hanson and Lucas knocked at the door to the doctor’s room and slowly pushed it open when they heard no response from within. They saw him sitting on the side of the bed with his eyes closed as he appeared to be catching his breath and obviously still in pain. He had managed to get his shirt, vest, and pants on but that was all. 

“Dr. Morgan?” Lucas began. “Dr. Brewster said you could use some help.” 

The doctor opened his eyes and pointed to his shoes and socks on the floor but the sudden movement made him close his eyes again and groan in pain. He opened his eyes again after taking in a few more breaths and looked at them. “Just in the nick of time, gentlemen,” he said, smiling. 

While they helped him get his shoes and socks on, Hanson told him, “Jo’s got your watch.” The doctor nodded mutely. “Was it Delgros’ goons that beat ya up?” he asked. “Because Lucas and I can return the favor.” 

The doctor finally smiled again. “I appreciate the offer but it would be best to just forget it. It would be my word against theirs,” he told them over their protests. “Besides, I have my own ways of dealing with them.” 

Lucas asked if he was sure. “Because they might know Ka-rate but I know Ca-razy.” 

The doctor gave him a blank stare before saying, “That’s very clever. I must remember that.” A smile crept slowly onto his features. “Very clever. But, ah, no. As I said, I have my own ways of dealing with them.” 

They helped him out of his room and met up with Jo, who handed his watch to him. He took it and thanked her. “I was almost certain that my attackers had stolen it and I’d have to make a report. And well … here you are,” he told her with an appreciative and dazzling smile. 

Jo, feeling more than a bit of déjà vu, found it difficult to reply. She tore her gaze away from his, away from that smile and those deeply soulful eyes before she totally embarrassed herself. 

“Let’s get you home, Doctor,” Hanson said. 

Vvvvvvvv 

Notes: 

I Googled “boxing matches in 1896 New York City” and the first result: “St. Nicholas Rink, also called the St. Nicholas Arena, was an indoor ice rink and later a boxing arena in New York, New York from 1896 until 1962...” 

[ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St._Nicholas_Rink ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St._Nicholas_Rink)

Another Internet search for burlesque halls in 1896 NYC brought up lots of results. One of them was about the “...[the] English style of burlesque … successfully launched in New York in the 1840s by the manager and comedian William Mitchell, who had opened his Olympic Theatre in December 1839.” [ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Victorian_burlesque ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Victorian_burlesque)

Information on ambulances in 1896 NYC found at 

[ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_the_ambulance ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_the_ambulance)

Description of an early ambulance (which may or may not be accurate for the ones in 1896) found at 

[ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_the_ambulance#/media/File:Civil_War_Zouave_ambulance.jpg ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_the_ambulance#/media/File:Civil_War_Zouave_ambulance.jpg)

And 

[ https://medium.com/history-of-yesterday/the-history-of-the-ambulance-ecc2d63fb1a6 ](https://medium.com/history-of-yesterday/the-history-of-the-ambulance-ecc2d63fb1a6)

Slight reference to Forever TV show 2014-2015 episode The Last Death of Henry Morgan S01/E22

That Ka-rate and Ca-razy line? The first time I heard it was in a James Brown song, The Payback. <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Payback_(song)>


	10. McSorley Memories Ch 10 More than Magic

_“Let’s get you home, Doctor,” Hanson said._

vvvvvvv 

“I’ll stay with him,” Lucas quietly told Jo and Hanson. “I have more medical training than the two of you. He should be okay if he takes it easy for the next few days.” 

Next few days?? Hanson thought to himself. They’d already postponed their attempt to return to their own time a few days. He could only imagine what his wife and kids were going through agonizing over where he was. 

“We’ll take turns,” Jo said although similar thoughts were running through her mind. She didn’t have a family like Hanson but her mother, siblings, friends and co-workers had to be thinking she and the guys had met a bad end by now. 

Every two hours, they agreed, watching the doctor as he slept in his room. She gave Lucas a hug which surprised both of them and she and Hanson left. 

Lucas settled down on the sofa, wishing that he could at least watch TV or listen to music while he kept vigil. Lacking those modern ways to entertain himself, he turned his attention to some books on a shelf atop the rolltop desk. He fingered through them murmuring their titles to himself. Although impressed by the few classics like “Moby Dick”, “Wuthering Heights”, and “Treasure Island”, he was most impressed that they were all signed by their respective authors and that they appeared to be first editions. The book that drew most of his attention was “The Picture of Dorian Gray” by Oscar Wilde. Not only was it signed by the famous author, certain passages were underlined and notations made in the margins in a hand script with a familiar flourish. 

“Looks like the Doc’s handwriting,” he marveled to himself but wondered again why his boss in 2015 chose to write in such an old-fashioned way. Must have been mandatory in English schools, he concluded. The next book that caught his attention was actually a leather-bound journal. Lucas took it back to the sofa and sat down with it. He opened the cover to see a title page with the flourished hand script that was too difficult to decipher. So, he leafed through it, pausing on a page here and there. Each page displayed the drawing of a human body with arrows pointing to different parts of the body coupled with notations and numbers. The journal, he concluded, was to document the ailments or injuries, some fatal, of the doctor’s patients over the years. 

“Huh. Just like the Big Guy’s journal,” he whispered to himself. He’d seen it in his boss’ basement lair earlier that year when they’d examined the dirt from Belinda Smoot’s grave. The doctor stirred, so he closed the journal and placed it back on the shelf. He walked over to look at him and make sure that he was still asleep. He was. So, Lucas sat back down on the sofa and although fighting sleep, in the next few minutes he succumbed to slumber. 

While Lucas was with the doctor, Hanson had looked through the city directory again and found the address he’d been looking for. He slammed it shut and marched toward the hotel’s exit with Jo right behind him. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” she demanded. 

“Found out where that scumbag lives,” he replied, biting his words in anger. “I’m gonna go over there and give ‘im a taste of his own medicine.” 

“No, you’re not!” she gritted out between clenched teeth and keeping her voice low. “We need to stay right here in case Lucas needs us to help him with the doctor. You go off and get your revenge and get yourself hurt in the process or thrown in jail --- that won’t do either of us any good!” 

He fidgeted as he worked against his instincts fueled by anger and what he knew was the best thing to do. He shoved his fists against his hips and drew his lips in then released a loud sigh of frustration. “We should at least report it to the cops here.” 

“He said he’d deal with Delgros’ ancestor himself,” she sadly reminded him. She wanted to go with him to bust some heads, too, but knew that that might put the timeline into further disrepair. Their very presence there, she believed, had thrown it out of whack enough. Seeing that he was at least not leaving, she suggested that they go across the street to Delmonico’s and have a cup of coffee. Sort things out and hope for Seamus to make another appearance. 

Once they got inside Delmonico’s they saw Seamus seated at a table and waving to them from across the room. The maître d' noticed him waving and grabbed a menu for both of them. 

“The gentleman has been in here every day in anticipation of a certain party --- the two of you, I suppose --- joining him,” he informed them. “I’m sure you must be delighted to finally meet up with him.” 

“Oh, delighted as all get out,” Hanson sardonically replied. The two of them returned the maître d's curious stare with fake, broad smiles. He then led them over to Seamus’ table. 

They sat down and glared at Seamus, who instructed the maître d', Paul, to bring them whatever they liked. Just coffee, they said never letting their eyes leave Seamus. Paul bowed and left to go get the coffee. 

“Where have you been?” Hanson asked. 

Seamus returned his attention to his meal of spaghetti and meatballs. “Near. Always near.” He looked up at them. “Tis no matter that ye can’t always see me.” He moaned in delight over his next mouthful and pointed his fork downward a few times at his plate. “Ye really should try this. Delicious!” He swallowed and cleared his throat before pointing out that they had not been at McSorley’s at their appointed time for the past few nights. “Before ye say anything … I know why. The doctor will be fine,” he assured them. “Now. Might I expect ye to be at the bar tonight?” 

They held off on any response while Paul served them their coffee. After he left, Jo said, “Possibly,” after some hesitation. Seamus took a sip of wine and set the glass down, waiting for either of them to continue. 

“See, we … we wanna make sure he’ll be all right before leaving,” Hanson found himself explaining. He wanted to head out but he couldn’t without Jo. “Maybe tomorrow night.” He sincerely hoped. 

The sight of Lucas bursting into the restaurant and looking around frantically, alarmed them. They saw Paul point them out and he loped across the room zig-zagging between tables to join them. 

“Lucas, what are you ---?” Jo’s question was cut off when Lucas interrupted her. 

“He’s gone!” he said, breathing heavily. “I dozed off for just a few minutes and, and when I woke up, he was gone!” 

Jo and Hanson stood up, slightly panicked. “Okay, try to think,” Hanson said. “Where would he go?” 

“Back to the tenements,” Jo said after frantically searching her mind. “His house calls.” 

Seamus lowered his eyes, not wishing to witness their panic and concern. For he knew that the doctor would be just fine. But the longer they remained in 1896, the greater the possibility that they would learn something that would truly upend their world. “Best that ye not interfere. Leave tonight. He’ll do fine without ye.” 

With a wordless, harsh glance at Seamus, the three of them flew out of the restaurant and each of them yelled “Horse!” to hail a cab. It took them to the spot where they’d previously offboarded and began a hike to the squalid flat where they had helped the doctor make his house calls. They came closer to the dwelling but heard what sounded like grunts of pain and pounding on flesh. The sounds came from behind the door of a below-street-level dwelling. They ran down the stairs and through the door. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the dimmed lighting but they could see two men kicking the doctor, who lay face down just past the darkened hallway. They bolted towards the men and overpowered them. Hanson took care of the stockier man in short order, knocking him unconscious. Jo jumped on the back of the other man while Lucas pushed his head hard into the side of the brick wall. He crumpled to the ground in an unconscious heap. They then rushed over to the doctor and pulled him over onto his back. He grunted painfully with every move. 

“It would seem that … my secret passageway … has been discovered,” he told them in between quick, shallow breaths. “Never underestimate … an evil man such as … Solomon Delgros.” 

“We’re taking you back to the hospital,” Jo chokingly told him. Although struggling to keep her tears back, she couldn’t keep her eyes off of the strange scar on his chest. During this latest attack, the men had ripped the buttons off of his vest and shirt, exposing his bare chest. The scar was almost identical to Henry’s. 

“Why’d ya do it, Doc?” Hanson asked, clearly troubled. “Why’d ya come back here alone knowin’ those goons might hurt ya again?” This guy was as pigheaded as his pigheaded descendant! 

“Jacob. The boy. He was alone now with his … father dead from … from typhus. Now, he’s dead, too,” he struggled to reply. Lucas said he would go call for an ambulance. 

“No!” he loudly refused. “There’s no time,” he said in a quieter voice tinged with regret. “No time before --- I’m sorry. So sorry.” He closed his eyes and took in a few more breaths. 

“Hen-ryyy,” Jo pleaded. 

“It’s alright.” He opened his eyes and looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. “Jo. You’re … Jo.” He looked at Hanson and said, “Mike.” He looked at Lucas and said, “Lucas.” He chuckled. “Lu-cas.” He smiled and closed his eyes again. “Why do I …? It’s a-as if I know all of you … really know you.” He took a few more breaths. “Then, it’s alright for you to know.” 

“Know what, Doc?” Mike asked, frowning and confused. “That you’re dyin’?” 

He chuckled again softly and replied, “But I shall return.” His smile faded and his breathing began to become more labored. His companions thought that he was speaking from delirium. He swallowed and said as clearly and as loudly as he could with his failing voice, “East … River. East … River. I apologize in advance for... any … impropriety.” 

He locked gazes with Jo and said, “You know what I’m … talking about … don’t you?” He squeezed his eyes shut as he grimaced in pain then opened them again and swallowed. “Do you … understand … what I’m saying?” 

Yes, she did. But it was just too fantastical to be true. Somehow, Jo knew exactly what he was saying. She didn’t know why but she did. Through the tears welling up in her eyes, she smiled and nodded then covered her mouth. She managed to compose herself as much as she could and stood up, wiping her tears away. 

“Give me your coat!” she told Lucas. He removed it as quickly as he could and gave it to her. “Get those pants and shoes off of the skinny guy!” she told them. “Hurry!” 

Without thinking, they practically yanked them off of the unconscious man and handed them to her. She then told them to stay with the doctor and she began running toward the stairs clutching the bundle of clothing in her arms. 

“You’re gonna go call for an ambulance?” Hanson called after. When she yelled back that she was heading to the East River, he couldn’t believe it. “To the East …? Jo, what are ya talkin’ about?” Hanson asked. 

A dawning of realization swept over Lucas and he looked at Hanson, pointing to the doctor’s scar. “I know why she’s going there. I know why.” 

Hanson, though late to the party, so to speak, grew quiet and slowly lowered his gaze to the man lying on the floor between them. The scar. And he seemed to know them just now, really know them. But … how? Jo was on her way to the East River to … what? Even with the crazy time-traveling thing and the crazy Seamus thing, he still found it impossible to finish his thoughts about the doctor’s fate or what his words meant. But he did appear to be dying and he’d said he’d return. And just when he thought that things couldn’t get any crazier, they did. 

The doctor grew still as his open eyes glazed over and a long, last breath escaped from him. Before they could wallow in their sorrow, though, he vanished in a flash of brilliant white light. 

vvvv 

Back in the future … 

Henry and Reece had made the trip to McSorley’s two nights in a row to be there at the time he recalled having checked the time on his pocket watch, 7:53 PM, before leaving the men’s room the night that the four of them had been swept into the past. Nothing unusual had happened and neither had the green-eyed man with the curly white hair and the dated mode of dress been seen. Abe suggested that since Reece had not been with them at all, maybe Dad should go there alone. Having little other choices, they agreed to try his suggestion. 

It was now 7:35 PM in the morgue. Henry removed his white lab coat and tossed it into the “soiled” bin just outside his office door. He donned his outer coat and scarf and left the morgue. In the next few minutes, he walked into the bar and sat at the table across from the bar that he had shared with Jo, Hanson, and Lucas. The same table that the green-eyed man was sitting at when Jo and he had left the bar together. After some debate, he ordered the dark ale again and as he sipped, he recalled that Reece --- Joanna --- had told him to keep her posted one way or the other. 

_“If we’re successful in retrieving them from 1896,”_ he’d told her _, “perhaps that won’t be necessary. Everything will be as it was and we probably won’t even remember what has transpired these past few days.”_

He took another sip of his drink and noted that it didn’t taste as fruity as it had that particular night. He didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. But it was for sure that nothing was happening. Again. Even so, his heart rate was increasing by the minute. Nerves, he told himself. The time by his pocket watch was now 7:48 PM. Nothing seemed to be happening but he did think it odd that the bar held its usual capacity of patrons but he had his table all to himself. It was almost as if it had been waiting for him unlike the two nights before when he and Joanna had had to wait to be seated at the table and both nights were joined by a few others from the precinct. 

The time was now 7:52 PM. He paid for his unfinished drink and took a deep breath before leaving the bar. It was now 7:53 PM. Once outside, he stood and looked around, not knowing what to expect but hoping to see his three friends miraculously appear. The bar, the people, and everything around him remained as it was in 2015. Disappointed and frustrated, he hailed a cab and headed for home. During the ride, though, an odd feeling of doom washed over him akin to the way he always felt when he was close to his last breath. At any moment, he expected the visual onslaught of faces and memories to begin. But why? He was neither ill nor injured. The ale. Could it have been poisoned? Through his distress and fear of exposure, he concluded that there was no poison in his system. Then he was startled out of his wits when a fuzzy vision of Jo, then Hanson, then Lucas appeared before him. It was as if he was looking up at them while he was … flat on his back somewhere. Somewhere familiar, though. 

It hit him all at once! After he’d suffered a second beating from Delgros’ hired thugs in the passageway leading to the squalid flat where the doomed boy, Jacob, had lived, he’d died. But they’d left him to die alone. And yet, he could see his three friends kneeling down around him, pain and concern in their faces. Could it be? Was it actually possible that they had found him and were witnessing that death in 1896? Good Lord, that just wouldn’t do! And was he dying again now in the present? 

“You okay back there, buddy?” the cab driver asked him. “You don’t look so good. Want I should drop you at a hospital?” 

“No!” he quickly replied. The feeling of meeting another end was suddenly gone. “No, ah, thank you, I, I just …” He swallowed and attempted a smile. “It must have been something I ate but I’ll be fine.” He’d died. They’d seen him die. Even though it was in 1896, he knew that he wouldn’t be fine if they remembered after they returned to 2015. He wouldn’t be fine and would have to run. 

“Yeah, well, just don’t barf back there,” the driver warned him. “Read the sign in front of ya. $65 fine for vomiting in my cab. That stuff is hell to clean up.” 

“Not to worry,” Henry assured him. “There will be no ‘barfing’ in your cab tonight. Not by me.” He did feel sick to his stomach, though; and he dreaded telling either his son or Joanna what he had just experienced. 

vvvvvvvv 

Notes: 

Slight reference to Forever TV show 2014-2015 episode The Pugilist Break S01/E05.

According to the wiki on _The Picture of Dorian Gray,_ it was a Gothic and philosophical novel by Oscar Wilde, first published complete in the July 1890 issue of Lippincott's Monthly Magazine. A longer and revised version was published in book form in 1891. But for the purposes of this story, Wilde’s original novel was published in book form in 1890, autographed, and gifted to Henry that same year. 

Some information on NYC fines for losing your lunch in a taxi cab found at 

[ https://www1.nyc.gov/site/finance/vehicles/services-violation-codes.page ](https://www1.nyc.gov/site/finance/vehicles/services-violation-codes.page)


	11. McSorley Memories Ch 11 The Return

vvvvvvvv 

Jo hailed a cab and hurriedly requested to be taken to the East River near the foot of the Brooklyn Bridge. 

“Beg pardon, Miss, but … it’s rather desolate down there,” the driver told her. “Frequented by derelicts and ne’er-do-wells. Are you sure you want to go there?” 

“Yes!” she replied, clutching the clothing to her chest as she jumped inside. “And step on it!” she ordered him. 

“Step on what, Miss?” the driver asked, confused. 

“Just get me there in the next five minutes and there’s a big tip in it for you!” The cab took off and flew down the streets at breakneck speed toward her requested destination. Tip, he understood. 

It took a little longer than five minutes to get there, though, but they made it. She jumped out of the cab and using the Brooklyn Bridge as a point of reference, gingerly made her way closer to the spot she felt was where their ME had frequently been arrested for skinny dipping. Only now, she realized that he hadn’t been skinny dipping. She desperately hoped that this Henry in 1896 would pop up in the same spot or nearby. 

“Henry?” She walked closer to the water’s edge. “Doctor? Are you here?” Oh, had she made a mistake on the location? What if he --- ? 

“Over here!” he called to her as he emerged from an abandoned, makeshift shack. The local police had recently rousted most of the derelicts out of that area the day before. 

She ran up to him and stared into his eyes. Those big, brown, beautiful eyes! He was alive! Also, she could tell that he was a little embarrassed at being nude and he was wet and shivering from the cold winds that picked up but --- he was alive! 

“Are those for me?” he asked, dipping his head at the clothing and bringing her back to the moment. 

“Oh, sorry, yes,” she said and handed them to him. He thanked her and stepped back inside the shack to dress. “Sorry. It-it’s the best we could do.” 

“They’re fine,” he replied from within. A few moments later, he stepped out and walked up to her. “Thank you again. Even though I hardly know you, I feel I can trust you.” 

Another strong wind gust caused both of them to shiver. “Can we continue this discussion in a warmer location?” she jokingly asked. 

“My thoughts exactly,” he replied, grinning. 

vvvv 

Later, the three of them waited in his room while he bathed the river water off of him down the hall. He came back into the room dressed in his own shirt and pants and his own shoes and socks. Although he’d told Jo earlier that he felt he could trust her, doubt and uncertainty had crept into his thoughts since that time. Even though he’d told all three of them that it was alright for them to witness his dying and vanishing, he now wondered if he simply should have just run to the nearest train station or boat leaving the country. He closed the door and stood for a few moments with his back to them doing his best to gather his courage. 

“S’okay, Doc,” Mike told him. “You don’t have to worry about us lettin’ your secret out.” 

“Yeah,” Lucas said. “You’ve got a big secret and … so do we,” he added with a chuckle. 

Jo had paced the entire time he’d been freshening up with her arms folded and her brow knitted. Seeing him again and sensing how vulnerable he must feel, she walked over and stood by his side. She placed her hand on his arm and assured him that he was among friends. 

He finally looked at her over his shoulder and slowly turned around to face all of them. The look of uncertainty on his face gradually morphed into acceptance and resolve. He patted her hand still on his arm and walked over and sat down on the bed. He took in a deep breath and said, “I know you all have questions and … rightly so.” He took another deep breath and pursed his lips into a painful-looking smile, his eyebrows raised. “It’s a long story.” 

_“It’s a long story.”_ Jo recalled that their Henry had uttered those very words to her as he’d nervously held the black-and-white photo of a smiling young couple and their baby. 

_“It’s a long story.”_ Lucas recalled that Abe had uttered those same words to him in the morgue while he’d asked him to help locate his missing mother of 30 years. 

To Jo, it suddenly felt like cheating to go behind Henry’s back like this to find out just what his long story was. Because … this man in front of them must also be … had to be … the Henry Morgan she knew in her own time. “You don’t have to tell us everything,” she quickly said before he could continue. “Just … explain to us what happened back there … when you … died.” 

“I did die,” he said, releasing a long-held breath. “And I’ve been told that after I die, my body vanishes; that there’s a bright, white light and my body’s gone.” They nodded, wide-eyed. “As to how and why this happens, I have yet to find any answers. I can only tell you that it first happened to me --- this dying and awakening --- 82 years ago.” 

Lucas slowly slid his eyes over to the doctor’s copy of “The Picture of Dorian Gray” and gulped. He then slowly slid them back over to the doctor. “That’s why you made all those notations in that Dorian Gray book.” 

The doctor, at first surprised, snatched his head in Lucas’ direction and then smiled and nodded. “Although my long life has been thrust upon me in a decidedly different way, I have faced similar situations in the book as far as people --- the wrong people --- finding out about me and threatening me or attempting to use me in order to gain immortality for themselves.” 

“Eighty-two years, that would make you …” Hanson’s voice trailed off as he did the math in his head. 

“I missed my 35th birthday by five months,” the doctor replied. “But if by some other miracle of nature, I had managed to live an uninterrupted life up until now, I would be … 116 years old.” 

While that incredible fact sunk into their brains, they each mentally added the years from 1896 to 2015 and were astonished to realize that their mysterious ME was nearly 236 years old! They watched him walk over to the rolltop desk and pull the leather-bound journal off of the shelf. He opened it to a blank page and placed it on the desk. 

“I presume you looked through this journal, as well,” he stated as he looked at Lucas. 

Lucas shrugged. “I thought it was records of your patients and their illnesses or wounds.” 

“Many appeared to be fatal,” the doctor stated again. 

“Yeah,” Lucas replied. “Now that you mention it.” He opened his mouth but said nothing and then clamped it shut, lowering his eyes. “Some of them are your deaths, aren’t they?” 

“They’re all my deaths,” the doctor clarified. 

“But … why?” Jo asked, surprised and dismayed at how macabre that sounded. 

“Research. You see, I must find a way out,” the doctor explained. “A way to end my curse.” 

Seamus suddenly appeared in the room but the doctor acted as though he was unaware of his presence. He sat down at the desk and began to write in it using quill pen and ink. Seamus put a finger to his lips and drew closer to them. 

“It’s time,” he told them. “Say not a word more.” They anxiously motioned toward the doctor who appeared lost in his journaling. “He’s already forgotten ye,” Seamus told them. He then waved his arm with an open hand in an arc over them. “Slán abhaile (safe home to a visitor).” 

vvvv 

Slán abhaile …... Slán abhaile …... Slán abhaile …... The unfamiliar words echoed in Jo’s head like the remnants of a dream as she fought through some kind of brain fog that was worse than any she’d dealt with even after Sean’s death. The lights along with the sounds of voices, laughter, and music caught up with the smells of chili, ham, and other menu items unique to McSorley’s. She found herself standing in the hallway just outside the women’s restroom in the bar. Although she wondered how she’d gotten there, she was grateful beyond words that she had! She was back! Back in good ole 2015. But … was this that night? That fateful night? It must be, she concluded, when she saw Henry sitting with Mike and Lucas at the table across from the bar. Her heart leaped for joy and she practically sprinted over to join them. 

_“Calling it a night, Henry?”_

The words echoed faintly around her; the same words that she’d said to him that night in this same spot. Instead, when they saw her, they all jumped up from their seats and warmly greeted her as if she were a long lost relative. She was just as overjoyed to see them. Especially Henry, she had to admit. And what did she see in his eyes? Hopefully, once they found some time to be alone, they could finally find a way to communicate their feelings to each other. It would seem that they both had a lot to get off their chests. He, more than she. 

“I was just telling them,” Henry breathlessly began, “I’ve been in here every night since … since my return.” He was careful to keep his voice low. “Hoping that somehow, by my presence, that the three of you would return, as well.” He glanced at the old-fashioned calendar on the wall over the bar and smiled broadly. “It would seem that we’ve all made our way back and it’s still that night.” 

“It’s a little after 7,” Mike said. “Maybe we should get outta here so’s we don’t get caught up again in that time warp or whatever.” 

“Wasn’t a time warp that snared us,” Lucas reminded him. “It was … uh, something else.” He felt it best to keep that part about Seamus from Henry for now. “It’s great that we still have memories of our little journey, though.” 

“Yeah, a journey I don’t ever wanna go on again,” Mike muttered. “Let’s get outta here.” 

They each heartily agreed and paid their tabs. Once they reached the open door, they hesitated momentarily, looking at each other, before stepping out onto the sidewalk. They held their breaths but, thankfully, it was evident that they were still in 2015. 

“Let’s go home, folks!” Mike cheerfully proposed. Mike and Lucas shook hands with Henry and hugged Jo, then hailed a cab and left together. 

“No clippity-clop tonight!” Lucas happily declared with a wide grin as he and Mike buckled up. 

Henry and Jo watched their cab (modern and motorized) pull away into traffic. He turned to Jo and smiled at her. He took her hand and held it. His smile softened, leaving a more pensive look on his face. “Jo … I know that you’ve been through a lot lately, but … as soon as you feel up to it, I’d like to have you over for dinner. There’s something I need to tell you.” 

Without a word, she squeezed his hand and they smiled at each other until their cheeks hurt before sharing a cab to their respective homes. Just before getting into the cab, though, Jo heard another unfamiliar phrase whispered into the darkness: “Fáilte ar ais” (Welcome back). 

vvvvvvvv 

Notes: 

The East River, according to its wiki: “At the beginning of the 19th century, the East River was the center of New York's shipping industry, but by the end of the century, much of it had moved to the Hudson River, leaving the East River wharves and slips to begin a long process of decay, until the area was finally rehabilitated in the mid-1960s...” 

[ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/East_River ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/East_River)

The Brooklyn Bridge opened in May 1883 per its wiki [ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brooklyn_Bridge ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brooklyn_Bridge)

Irish blessings in Gaelic found at [ https://www.quora.com/What-are-some-Irish-farewell-blessings ](https://www.quora.com/What-are-some-Irish-farewell-blessings)

McSorley’s menu items found at [ https://www.zomato.com/new-york-city/mcsorleys-old-ale-house-east-village/menu ](https://www.zomato.com/new-york-city/mcsorleys-old-ale-house-east-village/menu)

Irish greetings in Gaelic found at [ www.indifferentlanguages.com/words/welcome_back/ ](http://www.indifferentlanguages.com/words/welcome_back/)


	12. McSorley Memories Ch 12 And What of Seamus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seamus is also returned to his clan to face the music for being AWOL and, what else? For causing mischief. Ohhh, what will become of him? And I apologize in advance for the shortness of this chapter. It's taking a little longer than I realized to work on the rest of the story's ending but I didn't want you to have to wait for a new update. Hope you enjoy.

Back in his room in the residential hotel in 1896, the doctor sat at his rolltop desk and documented his latest death and awakening in his newest voluminous journal. The details were a bit unclear to him because he felt that others had witnessed his death and his body vanishing. After a few moments to clear his thoughts, he decided that he’d died alone. It troubled him a bit that for the first time since his condition had manifested itself in 1814, and since he’d begun journaling his deaths, he couldn’t recall how he’d gotten back from the river to his room. The more he tried to concentrate on that time period, the less clear the details became. It was as if someone was turning out the lights on each area he tried to remember. The end result of the excruciating pain and horror of having been beaten to death by Solomon Delgros’ hired goons, he concluded. Goons. Where did he get that term from? He breathed in deeply and closed his eyes but popped them open in further frustration after only a few moments and sighed as he accepted what he felt was an undeniable fact: that he was suffering from hysterical amnesia. 

While he made the last few notations in his journal, he was unaware of an unseen visitor standing behind him: Seamus McBryde. Although he’d identified himself to the three former time travelers as having the last name McSorley, he had done so because the utterance of his true name would have revealed his location to his clan. The old fogeys simply didn’t understand the true meaning of mischief. HE was the walking, talking _epitome_ of the word! 

Leprechauns --- and he most definitely was one --- were supposed to cause mischief in the lives of mortals as punishment for living unfulfilled lives. Not harmful mischief like that dark and evil one who ruled fire and brimstone below but the harmless kind that upheaved their lives just a bit to cause them to rethink their priorities. Helpful mischief, he liked to call it. Of course, he was a majority of one in his clan when it came to agreeing to that way of categorizing his conduct. 

Seamus bent down and whispered into the 1896 doctor’s ear that his friends were now gone; returned to their own time and the timeline was repaired.

“Old Seamus (referring to himself) simply couldn’t resist having ye meet friends ye will have for life." At least, as long as they lived. "And since ye couldn’t meet them now --- I brought them to ye.”

He straightened up and frowned a bit but with a smile when he realized that the doctor wasn’t reacting to his words. Perhaps, he thought, in his natural state. In a twinkle, he reverted to his twelve-inch height with the bushy eyebrows and beard, the classic green outfit with the high-topped hat, white stockings, and gold buckles on his black shoes, black belt, and hat. He sat perched atop the small bookshelf as he gazed admiringly at the doctor hard at his task of documenting the pain level of the various injuries that had resulted in yet another of his deaths. 

“Aye, laddie, if ye only dwelt on how to live instead of how to die,” he whisperingly lamented. “Ye are such a fine lad with a heart of gold worth more than any pot o’ gold ye could ever find.” Seamus paused, sighing. “I can only hope that after meeting yer future friends --- especially the beautiful lass --- that ye will embrace this blessing of such a miraculously long life and look forward to the day that ye can share part of it with her.”

Seamus hoped his words were penetrating into the Immortal’s psyche for it was much more rewarding to peer into his life than it was that other Immortal’s. That one that liked to call himself Adam. He wasn’t totally terrible, Seamus believed, but his future was dark. Much, much darker than this immortal medical man, Henry Morgan. Seamus had given up on him. He’d leave Adam to his fate. 

But he refused to give up on this one in front of him and several others like him. He laughed to himself. Wouldn’t the doctor love to meet others like himself? That just might be another little adventure he would undertake for him. For now, though, this little adventure was ending. He leaned forward and blew a suggestion the doctor’s way.

_Sleep. Sleep._

Seamus leaned back and smiled when the doctor yawned loudly and shook his head.

_Sleep. Sleep._

The doctor replaced the quill pen into its holder and closed the journal. Seamus moved his feet playfully as the doctor put the journal back on the shelf. He then stifled a yawn again and left the desk and made his way over to his bed. Seamus zipped over to perch on the top of the ornately-designed wooden headboard.

 _Sleep. Sleep_.

The doctor removed his shoes and laid back on the bed fully clothed. Almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, sleep overtook him. 

True, Seamus told himself, he may not have been able to exercise much control over Henry Morgan in 2015 but he was able to suggest a little bit to this one. A wee bit. Seeing that he was deep in slumber, Seamus felt it was time to put his clan out of its misery and reveal his location so they could “reclaim” him. He sighed when he speculated what type of punishment he would face. But it was time to go, he decided. 

“Here be I, Seamus McBryde. Reclaim my unworthy hide!” 

He felt the pull on him as he was whisked back into the secret stronghold of his clan. The elders stared sternly at him and their leader gruffly asked what mischief had he stirred up this time. How he wished to tell them that there be Immortals out there amongst the mortals! Maybe they weren’t ready for that just yet, he decided. And he didn’t wish to endure what some other misbehaving members of his clan had: being lowered naked and headfirst into one of the fiery pits inhabited by the dark evil one below while the lost souls trapped there grasped at them. 

“I … merely went on a journey,” he began. A very long journey to the future. “Just wanted to experience the mortal world as a mortal for a while.”

The elders all nodded as if they understood and he thought he had escaped punishment. An hour later, though, he ran his shaky fingers over the uneven bald spot on the top of his head and his face where his bushy eyebrows and thick beard had been singed off after a dip in the fiery pit. 

“When will ye learn not to lie to yer elders, Seamus?” he forlornly asked himself. And, of course, they would already have known about mortals and Immortals. It was forbidden to mingle with any of them, he'd been angrily told.

“When will ye learn, Seamus?" he asked himself again. "When will ye learn?” 

vvvvvvvv 

Notes: 

Although my idea is of a leprechaun dressed in a green outfit, originally, they were described as being dressed in red. A few more descriptions have them standing nearly three feet tall and are found at 

[ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leprechaun#Appearance ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leprechaun#Appearance)


	13. McSorley Memories Ch 13

VVVVVVVV

The next morning Henry reported to work gladdened over the return of his friends from the past the previous night. But no matter how hard his son had tried to explain what he knew about time travel and its consequences, he still struggled to understand it all. The experience was as mind-boggling and mysterious as his condition. To his way of thinking, there were just too many variables to consider. Also, the faint vision of the three of them having witnessed his death in 1896 continued to nag at him. He hoped it was all just some sort of hallucination brought on by frustration and anxiety. That was it, he told himself in an effort to calm those old fears that were rising up about being discovered. And did the Lieutenant remember him killing himself in front of her as a fast-track method of getting her to first believe his fantastical secret and then believe what he told her about their time traveling experience? There were so many questions yet to be answered concerning the entire situation. 

These thoughts and others occupied his mind while he rode the elevator down to the basement and stepped out onto the floor. He stopped just before opening the door to the morgue to take in and release a deep breath. He then snatched the door open and walked in. 

“Good morning, Lucas,” he said as he walked quickly in with intentions of disappearing into his office. 

Lucas returned his greeting and apprised him of their newest cold patient, a young black woman named Coralee Albert. “Lt. Reece wants an upfront in her office regarding the vic. Victim,” he quickly corrected himself at Henry’s look of disapproval over his use of the shortened term for the dead woman. 

“Hmmm. Well, let’s not make her wait any longer,” he said. Outwardly, he was trying to appear confident, as if nothing out of the ordinary had transpired since last night; but inwardly, he almost dreaded meeting up with all of them again. Especially in such close quarters as Reece’s office. If her memory of his dying and awakening was retained, so be it. But he was only ready to baby step to telling Jo about his long story. 

vvvv 

“Techies are goin’ through surveillance footage and a couple of cell phone videos but eye-witness reports point to it being an accident,” Mike told his boss. 

“You sound pretty sure it was just an accident,” Reece said. “And she didn’t just jump?” 

“Platform was crowded,” Mike replied, spreading his hands. “Accident.” 

“What are you thinking, Henry?” Jo asked him. 

“It may well have been an accident,” he replied. “Although we cannot assume anything without further examination of the body and of the video captures of the incident. She doesn’t fit the profile of someone who was suicidal,” he continued. “Her three children, now orphans --- I doubt that she would have wanted that for them. And she was dressed for work in her scrubs. Also, a receipt that Lucas found in her purse indicates that she was to pick up a cake later that same day for her middle child’s birthday celebration. In the end, to her children, it matters only that she was too soon taken away from them.” 

Reece nodded as she mulled over what they’d told her. She smiled, switching subjects, and said, “I haven’t had a chance to say how really good it is to see all of you back here again.” Each of them acknowledged how grateful they were, too. “Quite a … remarkable journey, eh?” 

She did remember, Henry’s inner voice of caution alerted him. 

“Not one that I want to take ever again,” Mike grimly replied which evoked chuckles and confirmations from the others including Henry. 

“I can only imagine the things you all encountered and sincerely hope we can talk later about that,” she said, her cheeks rounded above her vibrant smile. 

Okay. Okay. They all remembered. Even though Lucas was not in the meeting, his memories had to be intact, as well. They wanted to discuss things further, Henry realized. But not here and not now. He swallowed and attempted to steer the conversation back to their young victim. Before he could, though, Reece began to explain her particular interest in the case. 

Reece smoothed out her features and lowered her eyes. ““What a shame,” she said. “Her mother and I went to high school together. I remember attending her wedding and her baby shower when she was carrying Coralee. Hard to believe that she’s … really gone.” Her eyes rose briefly up to meet Henry’s then she lowered them again, blinking rapidly. She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders. “Let me know as soon as possible her definitive COD.” As heartbreaking as it was for her to learn of the death of her friend’s daughter, it would be even more heartbreaking if the young woman’s life had been snuffed out by someone else or by her own hand. 

They offered their sincerest condolences and began to somberly file out of her office. 

“Dr. Morgan, could you spare a moment?” Reece asked. 

“Yes, of course,” he replied and retook his seat. 

Once back at his desk, Hanson received a call on his cell phone from the Tech Unit. “Great,” he told the caller. “On my way over now.” He ended the call and pocketed his phone. “They got somethin’,” he told Jo. “You comin’?” 

“Sure, just … give me a minute,” she replied. 

Hanson stepped closer to her and in a lowered voice advised, “Remember not to say anything to the Doc about … you know. At least, not yet.” 

“Oh, of course not,” she quietly replied, frowning slightly. “And certainly not here.” Hanson nodded and left for the Tech Unit. 

Jo watched him walk across the bullpen and disappear into the Tech Unit. She then turned her attention to Henry having what looked like another serious conversation with Reece. As she lowered herself to sit at her desk, she bit her lower lip and wondered again what they had discussed before Seamus had allowed them to hear Henry, Reece, and Abe speak while she, Hanson, and Lucas had watched them in the conjured-up images in the mirror. Even what they’d been allowed to hear had left them with more questions than answers. 

Hanson looked over his shoulder at her as if to urge her to hurry up and join him in this fact-gathering session with one of the Techies. She gave in to the call of duty and walked over to join him. She was more than hopeful that Henry would include his discussion with Reece along with what he had to tell her later. 

“What do we got?” she asked Hanson. 

vvvv 

“The victim died on impact after she fell from the subway platform,” Henry explained. “She was crushed beneath the wheels of the train as it pulled into the station and was dragged several feet before it stopped.” 

The two detectives refrained from frowning but shook their heads and exchanged a look with each other. At least it wasn’t suicide or murder. At least they could tell Reece and the young woman’s next of kin that. 

Henry pursed his lips and looked down at the victim on the stainless-steel examining table. Lucas raised his clipboard up enough to block out the sight of the victim as he jotted down notes. Although they all knew it was better not to let each victim’s circumstance get under their skins, it was sometimes easier said than done. For their latest victim, besides having had a close connection to the Lieutenant, was a young, recently-widowed, single mother and student nurse on her way to a minimum-wage job that paid barely enough to meet the needs of her and her three children, one as young as six months old. 

“Have you been able to determine for certain that this was an accident?” Henry asked the detectives. 

“Uh, well, yeah,” Hanson replied. “The platform was crowded, a couple of guys near her began elbowin’ each other for room that wasn’t there and they bumped into her.” He paused as he recalled how Reece had taken the news after he and Jo had seen the video footage. “She kind of dipped down to her left all of a sudden and she fell in front of the train.” 

“Those actions would explain her broken left ankle in support of my theory that when she was jostled, her ankle rolled to the left and broke when it was unable to bear the sudden brunt of her weight.” He pulled the sheet back to expose to the two detectives, her bruised and broken left ankle. He covered it back up and looked up at them. 

“This young woman meant a lot to the Lieutenant,” he softly remarked as he looked her over from head to toe. Lucas passed a manila folder to him and he handed it to Jo. 

“We’ll go share your findings with her,” Jo said. 

She and Hanson hesitated before leaving. Except for Henry having told her the night before that he had something to tell her, neither of the four had said anything more to the other that morning about their remarkable journey to the past. It was as if the bubble of familiarity they now found themselves in might burst once they began to discuss it. And, truthfully, they had each wondered if, after a night’s sleep in their own beds, their memories of the journey would be retained. Who would remember what, if anything, and how much? Neither of them had had the courage to be the first to bring up the subject for fear of realizing that they were the sole witness to the remarkable event. Now that Reece had apparently broached the subject and by the look of delighted relief on her face at seeing them all (even though she’d delighted in seeing Jo and Hanson walk into the bullpen earlier), Jo finally found the courage to say something, although guardedly. 

“We didn’t exactly … have fun,” she said. 

“It was the journey of a lifetime, though,” Lucas admitted, the wonder of it all reflected in his eyes. 

Hanson sighed. “I’m just glad to be back.” 

“What about you, Henry?” Lucas asked with a playful smile. 

He smiled at all of them and replied, “There’s no place like home.” 

That elicited a chuckle from the others. Henry then instructed Lucas to prepare the paperwork to release Coralee’s body to the mortuary. Jo handed the manila folder to Hanson and told him that she would return to the bullpen in a few minutes. She then followed Henry into his office and closed the door before seating herself in a chair across from his desk. 

“They move like molasses,” Hanson jokingly remarked to Lucas. 

“Makes sense because the Doc’s pretty old-fashioned, right?” Lucas replied. 

While Hanson chuckled himself out of the morgue, Jo shared her thoughts with Henry. 

“You said that you had something to tell me.” He nodded. “Tonight would be a good time for you to do that,” she said. She shut her eyes tightly and then opened them, inhaling and exhaling deeply. “Because you a-and I have walked softly around each other for months and it’s driving me up the walls! Now … I don’t mean to scare you but ---” 

  
“No, Jo,” he said, interrupting her. “Nothing you can say at this point of our … relationship … would scare me.” He smiled fondly at her. “Please. Come to dinner tonight. I’ll tell you everything.” 

Visibly relieved and happy, she said, “Good. Good. I’ll be there.” She left her chair and began walking out of his office. She stopped and turned around to face him. “Will Abe be there, too?” 

“Oh, most definitely,” Henry replied. “We both look forward to seeing you this evening.” He called after her when she turned around to leave again. “And Jo? Just you. Only you.” 

“Oh. Most definitely,” she responded. 

vvvv 

Later that evening in the Hanson household, young Mikey was seated at the dining room table with an open book and his pencil poised above a blank sheet of paper. The look on the boy’s face told the story: homework was not going well tonight. 

“Whatcha workin’ on, there, buddy?” Hanson asked his son. “Need any help?” 

Mikey sighed and picked up the book, handing it to his father. “We gotta write an essay on this chapter.” 

He took the book from his son and skimmed through the pages of the chapter entitled, “How the Other Half Lives: Studies among the Tenements of New York”. It was a synopsis of the 1890 book of the same name that compiled the photojournalism of Jacob Riis, documenting squalid living conditions in the slums of New York City in the 1880s. 

“It’s got a bunch of old photos of people living in the slums in New York way back when,” Mikey said. “Looks really gross but I still don’t know how to start my essay,” he tiredly admitted. “Do you know anything about any of that, Dad? Maybe you could tell me and I could just write what you say.” 

Normally, he would have handed the book back to his son and instructed him to read it for himself and do his best to write his own essay. And did he know anything about any of that? He sure did. But one name jumped up off the pages that was all-too-familiar to him: Dr. Henry Morgan. His name was mentioned a few times throughout the chapter detailing his efforts to help the slum dwellers by having been part of a coalition of medical and legal professionals that had worked to make slumlords more accountable for the conditions of their dwellings and to improve them. Their efforts, after several years, had eventually begun to pay off by the late 1890s when some slumlords in violation of newly-passed legislation had even been prosecuted, fined, and jailed. The name of one of the more notorious slumlords named in the chapter caught his eye: Solomon Delgros. 

Hanson laughed heartily. “Well, whaddaya know,” he said more to himself. Turns out the Doc really did have his own way of dealing with the likes of Delgros. Good for him. Although he still wished he could have punched the guy’s lights out, he drew some satisfaction from when they’d jailed his murderous descendant, Tommie Delgros, last year and now learning that their ME --- their Immortal ME --- had helped put away the earlier Delgros slimeball over a hundred years ago! Of course, he couldn’t share any of that with his son for his essay. Then, when he saw the doctor’s likeness in a group photo that he wished was grainier and less clear, swallowed and flipped the pages back to the beginning of the chapter. 

“Let’s see what we can come up with,” he told his son with a forced smile. 

vvvvvvvv 

Notes: 

Read the wiki on “How the Other Half Lives” by photojournalist, Jacob Riis. Of course, Henry Morgan was not part of this historical publication but I’m sure that there were doctors like him, who were and who worked tirelessly to help better the conditions of the tenement dwellers beginning in the late 1800s. 

[ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/How_the_Other_Half_Lives ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/How_the_Other_Half_Lives)

Slight reference to Forever TV show 2014-2015 episode The Pugilist Break, S01/E05. 


	14. McSorley Memories Ch 14 A Tale of Two Lovers

VVVVVVVV

_“You said that you had something to tell me,” Jo had said to Henry earlier that day. “Tonight would be a good time for you to do that.”_

vvvvvvvv

“T’would be nice to have a fire tonight,” Henry remarked as he stared into the fireplace unused for months during the city’s warm weather spell. 

“Sounds romantic but way too warm for one,” Abe pointed out. “Just look deep into her eyes once she gets here and that’s all the fire you two should need.” 

Henry closed his eyes and smiled as he shook his head and recalled that Lt. Reece had said virtually the same words to him earlier that day in her office.

_VVVVVVVVVVVV_

_"I'm talking to you like a big sister, Henry," she'd said. "Before you say a word, I LOOK older than you do so let's just go with that, okay?"_

_He'd taken in a deep breath and dipped his head deeply a couple of times._

_"Tell Jo. The sooner the better. Stop trying to avoid lookin' that woman in the eyes and go ahead and fall deeper in love. You two are already IN love with each other just --- get together and get on with your lives, okay? She doesn't have the time that you do, Henry. Now, do you love her?"_

_"Yes. Very much." Not even his son with his persistent urgings had gotten such a definite admission out of him._

_"Then, tell her."_

_VVVVVVVVVVVV_

And his son. Never subtle in his continuing efforts to push the lovely detective and him together. “You’re right about it being too warm,” he said, not wishing to reply directly to his son’s mischief-laden comments. “But I suppose I was just feeling a little … nostalgic for the blazing hearth after …” 

“After your literal walk down memory lane,” Abe finished for him, his arms folded across his chest. When his father didn’t immediately reply, he dropped his arms and walked up closer to him, patting him on the shoulder. “Those were easier, more familiar times for you,” he stated. 

Henry lowered his head a bit and sighed before replying. “By 1896, I would have met my natural end many years before IF … if I had been a natural man instead of what I am. It was a rapidly changing world; new inventions being made in rapid succession. People moving more and more rapidly just to keep up with everything.” He looked away and walked closer to the fireplace, his gaze coming to rest on the antique nautical clock on the mantel. 

“This clock was manufactured in 1797,” he continued. “By 1896, it was considered to be a very valuable antique even then.” He turned to face his son again, a look of obvious distaste on his face. “I pre-dated the bloody thing by nearly 20 years then!” 

“Okay, so, maybe not such easier times then,” Abe conceded. “But Dad … you did meet Mom; and had a good life with her. And me,” he added, chuckling. He became more serious when he added, “You can have a good life with Jo, too. She can help you to forget some of those times when you were alone. Make some new, good memories with her.” 

Henry squinted at his son. “Abe. It all depends on whether or not she accepts me the way I am,” he reminded him. The clock on the mantel chimed the hour at 7:15 PM and a few moments later, they heard knocking at the shop’s door. 

“That must be her,” Henry said and hurried toward the stairs to go and let her in. 

“Remember, Pops,” Abe called after him. “Stay calm, stay focused and everything will be just fine.” 

Henry moved quickly down the stairs and across the retail area of the shop to open the door for Jo. How many times he had done this whenever she’d shown up there. At the sound of what he had come to know to be her distinctive knock, a wide, silly grin had had to be suppressed in order to hide his growing feelings for her. Also, the less fuel his son was given to stoke his match-making fire, the better. If he and Jo were to move forward in any relationship, he believed it should be on their own terms. When they were both ready. For such a long time, neither of them had been ready. But tonight … he had more hope than ever for them. 

He now stood on the other side of the door and he could tell by the look on her face that she was just as nervous as he was --- and utterly beautiful. But there was something else he saw in her lovely brown eyes; a hopeful expectancy that both excited and encouraged him. Most viewed him as strange or weird. By her own words after their first meeting, creepy. But the very fact that she had come, meant that she was willing to hear what he had to tell her with an open mind and, hopefully, an open heart. He unlocked the door and she stepped inside. 

“Hey,” she said as she brushed past him carrying the scent of lilacs with her and leaving him palm-sweaty and breathless. 

“Come in,” he managed to reply and cleared his throat. He then locked the door back and informed her that they were having dinner on the rooftop terrace. “Abe’s cooked up his own version of his mother’s lasagna.” 

“Sounds great,” she said, returning his broad smile. 

vvvv 

The meal, like all the others Jo had partaken of with the two men over the past year, was not only delicious but pleasingly presented as usual. However, halfway through, Jo suddenly laid her fork down and took a large gulp of wine then clunked the glass down and looked as apologetically at them as she could. 

“I’m sorry, guys … I mean everything’s delicious but …” Her gaze met Henry’s. “The words 'Tell her’ keep repeating in my mind.” It was clear to both men that plying her with good food and pleasant company would no longer work to conciliate her. 

“Right,” Henry quickly said. “Right.” He realized there was no more room for delay but that he still had not settled on the best way to share his long story with her. 

“Everything’s all set up in your lab,” Abe informed Henry. “I’ll put all this away and join you later.” 

_'Set up? Jo wondered to herself. 'What's set up?'_

They both thanked him and made their way down into his basement laboratory. Once there, they sat on the chaise lounge near a chalkboard filled with information on it that resembled a timetable of sorts. Was it part of the set up? It was the heading in block letters that caught her eye, though: REAPPEARANCE TABLE. Reappearance? Reappearance as in …? 

He noticed her interest in his ‘Chalkboard of Deaths’ as his son referred to it, and decided to dive right in. “Jo. When the three of you remained in 1896, did you happen to run into … someone who had a strong resemblance to me?” 

She stiffened which did not go unnoticed by him. “Yes,” she replied. 

“A doctor,” he prodded. 

She nodded, not trusting herself to meet his intense gaze. “He looked like you. Had the same accent and a pocket watch and medical bag that were virtually identical to yours. Except for his pencil-thin mustache … he was you, Henry.” 

"Did you think it was me?” he asked. 

“No, not at first. We thought that he was your look-alike ancestor.” 

“You said ‘at first’. Did something happen to make you believe that he wasn’t simply my ancestor?” 

She was the detective, she told herself. _She_ was the one who asked the questions to dig the truth out of suspects or witnesses. He said that he had something to tell _her_. Instead, here she was telling him ---. It suddenly dawned on her what he was doing. 

“Um … yes. He … the doctor was beaten very badly by some men who worked for a slumlord named Solomon Delgros. He spent three days in a hospital before waking up from a coma.” 

Henry straightened up and gripped his knees. The brandy decanter and glasses that Abe had set out on his desk caught his eye. “Go on,” he told her. 

While she told him of how they’d helped the doctor from the hospital back to his hotel room and had attempted to watch over him until he was stronger, he walked over and poured them both a drink then brought them back and sat back down. She took the drink and took a sip but remained silent as if unsure of how to voice the strange events that occurred after that. 

“Let me help you,” he said after taking a sip of his own drink. “The, ah, doctor left his hotel and returned to the tenement house to see about a young boy named Jacob, right?” 

“Yes, he … did mention that name,” she replied. 

“And he ran into the same men responsible for his first beating,” he said. 

She noticed that he had that familiar faraway look in his eyes that meant he was recalling a life event only this time with a healthy amount of anger. He wasn’t indulging in imaginings as he’d told her a few times before. Something that had actually happened to him because … 

“Henry ---” 

“Only this time they were more thorough.” His tone had hardened as he recalled that time. 

“They … they beat you and …" She was sobbing now. “Oh, Henry! It was you! Wasn’t it?” 

He quickly took the drink from her and placed it next to his on a small nearby table and then hugged her close to him while she wept. “It’s all right, Jo. I’m fine now.” 

She leaned away from him slightly, her hands on his chest with tears streaming down her face. “It wasn’t all right. You died and …" 

He pulled a delicately-embroidered handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and wiped her tears away. He then placed the handkerchief into her hand and she used it to blow her nose. 

“Sorry,” she told him. 

“No need to apologize, Jo; it’s what handkerchiefs are made for,” he said. “You saw the doctor --- me --- die and disappear and it freaked you out.” 

“Well … I knew you were dying but I didn’t actually witness your death.” 

The man that she now knew to be an Immortal frowned and asked, “But Lucas and Hanson did?” She nodded. He frowned deeper. “Then how do you know …? He released his frown and opened his mouth, hesitating before saying, “You picked me up … from the river.” 

She found herself smiling through the end of her tears. “You kept apologizing and you didn’t want us to call an ambulance for you again. Instead, you said ‘East River’ and apologized again for ‘any impropriety’ because you knew that I’d find you there … naked.” 

“I apologized in advance,” he said more to himself and scoffed. “Well, it’s good to know that my upbringing did not allow me to abandon my good manners. But still, what made you decide that the man you met in 1896 was me and not my ancestor?” 

“Well, everything,” she replied. “The watch, that medical bag, your accent and mannerisms, and that scar.” 

“You saw the scar on my chest?” he asked. "A-at that time?"

“We all did. They’d beat you again so badly that your chest was exposed under your shirt and vest. We all recognized it and knew that it was just too much of a coincidence for that man to not be you.” She shook her head and blinked her eyes, locking her gaze with his. “And … it was the way I felt whenever you were near or even looked at me.” 

“A kind of warm, tingly feeling from head to toe,” he stated, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“Yeah,” she breathlessly replied. “All nice and warm and tingly.” She laughed softly and asked, “You, too?” 

“Ohhh, for months!” he replied laughing louder. “I found it increasingly more difficult to maintain any sense of propriety while in your presence. Why, just the mere thought of you …" He paused and gazed deeply into her eyes just as his son and Joanna had suggested earlier. “...makes me feel happy inside. Makes me want to know you better, to learn everything there is about you. Makes me want to let you know how deeply I care for you. How much I need you. And that … I don’t want to live without you.” 

Jo reached up and caressed his cheek. He closed his eyes and placed his hand on top of hers. He kissed the palm of her hand and then placed it back on his cheek, grinning at her. “I like it there,” he told her and they both chuckled. They melted against each other and held the embrace for several moments. They then leaned back just far enough for their lips to meet in a tender kiss that grew in intensity, causing them to lose all track of time. Only when they heard footsteps on the stairs did they pull away from each other. 

“Is that you, Abraham?” Henry called out. 

“Yeah,” he called back from the top of the stairs. “Okay for me to come down now?” 

“Yes, please do,” Henry replied. While he spoke, he and Jo continued to smile and gaze at each other. 

“How is he really connected to you, Henry?” she asked. “I never believed that fable you guys dropped on me the first time I had dinner with you here.” 

“I do apologize for those falsities,” he told her. “But we couldn’t risk you learning the truth about us at that time.” 

“Is he your father?” she asked, an eyebrow raised. 

“Nah!” Abe exclaimed, seemingly indignant at the thought. “Now, do I look old enough to be his father?” He quickly added, “Let me rephrase that. He must have told you by now that he was born in 1779.” Jo nodded, holding her laughter back. “Well, I, young lady, wasn’t born until 1944.” 

He looked questioningly at his father and said, “I take it you haven’t shared this part of your long story with her yet?” 

“Who are you, Abe?” Jo asked more impatiently. 

“Tell her,” Henry said with his head tilted and smiling. 

“That photo of the man and woman with the baby?” Abe began. Jo bobbed her head, her eyes bugged. “I don’t know what he told you (referring to Henry) but I’m the baby. Mom is holding me and ---” He paused when Jo interrupted him. 

“Your mother, Sylvia Blake,” she said. “Only … I’ll bet that wasn’t her real name.” Jo listened in jaw-dropped silence as Henry explained that she was right and that Abe’s mother was actually Abigail, his wife. She finally understood the significance of the bones they’d uncovered and brought back from Tarrytown. Finally understood Henry’s obsession at the time in his efforts to find out exactly how she’d died. Finally understood that the two men had been forced to grieve in private for her in an effort to keep Henry’s secret of immortality hidden. The hurt feelings she'd had back then when she hadn't been invited to or even told about Abigail’s funeral seemed childish and unimportant now that she knew the real reason she had been excluded. 

“Oh, guys, I’m, I’m so sorry. You two had to hide all of that from everyone in order to stay safe.” She looked at Henry and said, “You didn’t tell me then because you didn’t yet trust me.” Henry lowered his eyes but squeezed her hand in response to her squeezing his. She then stood up and hugged Abe and kissed him on the cheek. 

“Aw, thanks, kid,” Abe told her and kissed her on the forehead. She told him that he was a cute baby. “I still am!” he laughingly exclaimed. “Right, Pops?” 

“Cute as a button,” his father quickly agreed, grinning. 

Abe then excused himself saying that he didn’t think they really needed him for anything else. Before leaving, though, he did tell Jo, “All joking aside … I had a good life no matter what my Dad might think because he and Mom were great parents.” He reached down and rubbed his father’s shoulder, who reached up and placed his hand on top of his son’s. He then left. 

“Good night, son,” Henry told him as he watched him disappear up the stairs. It felt good ... very good to be able to say something like that in front of Jo. She echoed farewell. 

“Night, you two,” Abe’s voice filtered down the stairs. “Have fun, you two.” 

His parting words took them back to the night when they’d encountered the older man with the curly, white hair in McSorley’s and he had said something similar to them. They suddenly felt a sense of foreboding and wondered if they would be taking yet another trip through time; something neither of them wished to experience ever again. Henry felt he had enough on his plate just trying to deal with his condition. 

Jo suddenly perked up. “Oh, I didn’t tell you about Seamus.” 

“Seamus?” he asked. “Who’s Seamus and what has he to do with any of this?” 

She smiled sheepishly and said, “It’s a long story.” 

VVVVVVVV 

Notes: 

Jo does tell Henry about the wayward leprechaun, Seamus, who had blown Lucas, Hanson, her, and him into New York City of 1896 when he fancied time traveling to the future himself. Of how he had allowed them to see him with Abe and Lt. Reece via a miraculous visual portal to 2015 and how he had finally been able to whisk the three of them back to their right time. 

It took the couple a few more months of getting to know each other as they fell deeper in love and eventually married in 2016 on the same day that they had first met in 2014. 

Oh, and Seamus’ hair grew back and he never dabbled in time travel again. But travel to other planets! That was the ticket for him! 

Slight references to Forever TV show 2014-2015 episodes Fountain of Youth S01/E03; The Night in Question S01/E21; and The Last Death of Henry Morgan S01/E22.

Thank you all for following along with me on this imaginary journey. Hope you’ll join me in my next fic. Stay safe, stay distanced, wash hands often. We’ll get through this together. 


End file.
